


Journey

by TessAlyn



Series: Uncharted Space [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dating, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gentlemanly Chiss courtship, Imperial Officers (Star Wars), Light Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Original Female Character, POV Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Thrawn is a big squishy blueberry and I apologize for nothing, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 94,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessAlyn/pseuds/TessAlyn
Summary: Commanding an Imperial Star Destroyer isn't easy, but Admiral Thrawn is adjusting well to his new role, continuing to achieve victory despite long odds. At least until a team of civilian scientists, led by the charismatic and strong-willed Tessa Alyn, is assigned to the Chimaera on a research expedition, and his perfectly ordered world is turned upside down.





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic. Thanks very much for giving it a read! The story alternates perspectives between Thrawn and Tessa Alyn, an original character. There are many other OCs, mostly Imperial since I love exploring the nuts and bolts of how a Star Destroyer crew operates day to day. Expect lots of dialogue, space exploration, major world-building, family drama, a bit of angst, gentlemanly Chiss courtship, and passionate sex (but not until later chapters-- I will be sure to mark which ones if you want to skip ahead!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Tessa Alyn receives a once-in-a-lifetime offer from the Empire to explore the Kathol sector, and must decide whether to accept it.

The rock was heavy, quite unlike most of the others we’d dug up this afternoon. The geological formations on Cirrus tended to be soft, sand-based, and light both in weight and color, but the stone in my hand was dark grey, almost black.

 

“Where did you find it?” I asked Pika.

 

“Just under that ridge,” she said, pointing to a low outcropping about twenty meters away.

 

“Interesting,” I said, handing it back to her. “Make sure you wash it really well. I’ll get the others.”

 

She nodded and went over to the small portable sink. I walked to the edge of the tent and cupped my hands to my mouth.

 

“Everyone regroup,” I shouted, my voice echoing across the quarry. “Pika’s found something.”

 

The remaining students were spread out over the worksite, hammering away at the hard-packed dirt, but at my words they all stood up and began walking back down to the tent. They were all students in the planetary sciences program, with academic tracks ranging from ecology to oceanography to physics. Mine was one of several geology courses they had to take, but it was the only one that focused primarily on fieldwork. It usually ended up being my favorite class to teach because it was only open to third and fourth year students— small enough that I could get to know each of them personally and tailor the curriculum to suit their needs.

 

Pika brought the stone back and set it down in the middle of the work table. Her classmates gathered around, wiping sweat off their faces and taking swigs from water bottles, relieved to be out of the scorching sun.

 

I handed the stone to Zeego, who was standing next to me. “Take a look,” I said. “Remember, use all five senses. Sight is just one. Touch, smell, sound, even taste can help you identify rocks and minerals.”

 

The rock went around the circle, passing through six pairs of hands. Some students lifted it up to see different angles. A few tapped it with their knuckles, listening to the sound it produced, and a couple held it to their noses, sniffing experimentally.

 

“Any initial impressions?” I asked after everyone had examined the rock.

 

“It’s definitely volcanic,” Zeego said. He was a squat and chubby Snivvian who often came to conclusions very quickly. It didn’t surprise me that he was the first to offer an opinion.

 

“What makes you think so?” I asked him.

 

“It’s dark and shiny,” he replied. “It also has a burnt sort of smell. Most volcanic rocks have those characteristics.”

 

“Most,” I said, “but not all. What else should we be looking for? Remember the components of identification. Zeego mentioned three— color, luster, and odor. What are some others?”

 

“Density,” Pika said. A red-skinned Zabrak with huge green eyes, she was one of my favorite students— quick-witted but thoughtful, often bringing insights no one else had considered. “If it _is_ volcanic, like Zeego said, it will likely have a high density.”

 

“Good,” I said. “And how do we test the density of a rock?”

 

“See if it sinks or floats in water,” she said promptly.

 

“Right,” I answered. “Go ahead and test it.”

 

As I expected, the rock sank when Pika dropped it into the water jug. “What does that tell us?” I asked the group.

 

“It’s got a high density,” Volgar said. He was a tall, gangly Cyrillian with yellow, mottled skin, and usually waited until others had spoken before contributing his thoughts. “Which means it doesn’t have many air bubbles or cavities. That probably rules out manganite and effolite.”

 

“Good,” I said. “So we’ve got a dark, dense rock that’s likely not manganite or effolite. We’ve still got a lot of narrowing down to do. What’s something else we should look at, Brell?”

 

Brell, a small, pale human with a mop of curly black hair, twitched nervously. He was very bright, but his shyness often stopped him from participating in discussion. I’d been trying to get him to open up more by asking him direct questions every now and again.

 

“Hardness?” he said tentatively.

 

“Good,” I said, giving him an encouraging smile. “And how do you test the hardness of a mineral?”

 

“Scratch it against different surfaces,” he answered, a little more confidently. “If it scratches glass, we know its hardness is eight point five or above.”

 

“Excellent,” I said. “Find us a glass plate, would you?” He nodded and walked over to the equipment cabinet.

 

“While Brell is getting the plate,” I said, turning back to the rest of them, “I’d like someone else to tell me another component we need to consider.”

 

Bidi, a blue-skinned Twi’lek, raised her hand. Like Brell, she usually had to be coaxed into participating, but she’d been growing more confident as the semester progressed.

 

“Yes, Bidi?” I said, nodding at her.

 

“Texture,” Bidi said, her lekku swaying back and forth slightly as she spoke.

 

“Good,” I said. “What do you think of this particular rock’s texture?”

 

“It’s greasy,” she said. “Almost oily.”

 

“Yes, I noticed that as well,” I said. “What might a greasy texture suggest?”

 

“It’s metallic?”

 

“Very good,” I replied.

 

Brell returned with the plate— a small, square piece of glass. “Thank you, Brell,” I said. “Would you like to do the honors?”

 

He nodded and set the plate down on the work table. Carefully, he dragged the edge of the rock over the plate with a slight screeching sound. We all leaned forward to see the result.

 

I was as surprised as everyone else by the deep scratch in the glass. “Interesting,” I exclaimed. “I was expecting it to be much softer, maybe a six or seven. What’s the next step, do you think?”

 

“Let’s see what type of streak it has,” Armin said. He was a tall, dark-skinned human who liked to dye his hair bright colors. Today it was pink, but next week it would probably change to blue, purple, or green. He was always ready with a joke or funny story, and had the most infectious laugh of anyone I’d ever met— a rolling, booming chortle guaranteed to improve even the grouchiest of moods.

 

“Good idea,” I said, turning around to the small workbench behind me and grabbing a streak plate. It was similar in size and shape to the previous plate, but it was made of unglazed clay instead of glass. I handed it to Armin. “Go ahead.”

 

A quick drag across the clay, and a gritty, dark blue streak appeared. Armin glanced up at me curiously. “Blue,” he said. “That’s not typical, is it?”

 

“No,” I said. “This is getting more interesting by the minute.” I looked around at them all. “When in doubt, what do we do?”

 

“Take it to the lab,” they all said in chorus.

 

I grinned. “I have taught you well. We’ve still got an hour before class ends. Let’s pack up and head back.”

 

***

 

When I’d first come to Elantris, I hadn’t expected to stay for long. Small town living didn’t hold much appeal for me— I was used to bigger cities and was sure that within a year I’d be itching to get away. Instead, I grew to love the small class sizes, the eccentric faculty, the friendly residents, and slower pace of life. I developed an affection for the campus’s crumbly stone buildings, worn wooden desks, and moss-covered walls. Even the outdated laboratory held a certain charm, although it did prove challenging when trying to conduct experiments or research using the latest techniques.

 

Despite its quaint, old-fashioned atmosphere, Elantris University was quite forward-thinking in other respects. Since its founding nearly two hundred years ago, the college had prided itself on its commitment to intergalactic diversity, recruiting heavily on planets where the populations were almost entirely alien. As a result, the student body was only forty percent human, which was highly unusual, even by Outer Rim standards.

 

As I steered the huge, ancient landspeeder down the dusty road leading back to campus, I listened to the conversations going on behind me. Because our students came from so many different places in the galaxy, the university had adopted Basic as its official language, but students were encouraged to teach classmates and instructors their native tongues. On trips to and from the worksite, languages were often flying thick and fast between my six passengers. Currently Brell and Bidi were speaking to each other in Ryl, one of the languages of the Twi’lek people, although based on the shy smiles, “accidental” touches, and soft giggles punctuating their conversation, I suspected it was less of an effort at cross-cultural understanding than it was an exercise in flirtation.

 

I turned my attention back to the road and idly watched the landscape rushing by. Cirrus had a highly varied geography that included deserts, mountains, plains, and cave systems, which made it a perfect location to study geology. Our university was located on the southern part of the main continent in a dry, sandy valley dotted with scrawny trees and cacti. Although it was still early spring, temperatures were already in the mid-nineties, but the lack of moisture in the air meant there was very low humidity, a blessing for someone with long, thick hair that often expanded to twice its normal volume in muggy climates.

 

Ten minutes later, I parked the speeder in the circular driveway outside Philus Hall, the planetary sciences building, and the seven of us traipsed up the stone steps and through the double doors. The geosciences, physics, and xenobiology departments all shared the same laboratory, meaning that space was often limited. At this late hour of the day, however, no one was teaching a class, which left us plenty of room for running tests.

 

“Okay,” I announced, after everyone had put their backpacks and gear into their assigned lockers. “We’ve got about forty minutes left, which means we don’t have time to run a molecular scan. There are a few tests we can do, however. What’s one of them?”

 

“Fracture,” Volgar said.

 

“Good. What else?”

 

“Magnetic test,” Pika said.

 

“Yep. There’s one more.”

 

“UV,” Zeego said.

 

I smiled. “You’re all so smart. Are you sure you need me?”

 

“Of course we do, Tessa,” Armin said cheerfully. “You’d miss us too much if you left.”

 

Everyone laughed, including me. “Good point,” I said. “You’re my favorite class, after all.”

 

“You say that to _every_ class,” Zeebo snorted.

 

“Yes,” I said, “and it’s true every time. Let’s get started.”

 

I had Bidi run the magnetic test, since she was the one who had noted the rock’s metallic indicators. The test turned up negative, ruling out several different ores and compounds. Zeego conducted the ultraviolet scan, which yielded no fluorescent readings. Finally, Volgar placed the stone into the pulverizer, configured the correct pressure and force settings, and then watched eagerly through the machine’s small glass window as the metal press slowly creaked upwards. Smashing rocks was Volgar’s favorite part of the identification process. I likewise was very interested to see what happened. The ways rocks broke could tell you a lot about their composition.

 

We all instinctively held our breath as the pulverizer paused, as if waiting to make sure everyone was watching. A fraction of a second later, it shot downwards and hit our sample with a satisfying _whump._ The stone fell apart in two neat pieces.

 

“Nice,” I said. “Take it out, Volgar. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

 

The inside of the stone was a dark, chalky blue, the same as the streak we’d seen back at the worksite, and it had broken along a prismatic plane.

 

“I was _sure_ it was volcanic,” Zeego said, and I could tell he was annoyed at himself for being wrong.

 

“So was I,” I told him. “Don’t feel bad.” I walked over to the holoboard at the other end of the room and scribbled down a few key words.

 

_High density_

_Burnt odor_

_Metallic_

_Hardness > 8.5 _

_Break: prismatic_

 

I turned back to the class. “I’m very happy that Pika found this, because it’s a great example of why we need to run _every_ test before coming to a conclusion. You’ll notice that I wrote down all identifying components... except for one.”

 

“Color,” Armin said.

 

“Yes,” I said. “You were right, Zeego, when you said that most volcanic rocks are dark in color. However, remember that minerals can be stained by other substances. Rocks may have surface coatings or impurities that make them look like something else.”

 

“So what is it?” he asked.

 

“We won’t know for sure until we run a molecular scan,” I said, “but my best guess is that it’s bellinium.”

 

“Isn’t that usually found underwater?” Pika asked.

 

“It is, but don’t forget that this desert used to be covered by sea,” I reminded her. “Bellinium is a very porous mineral. It absorbs most substances and can even take on some of their characteristics. We know that there was a lot of volcanic activity here a few thousand years ago. My guess is that there’s probably a large vein of bellinium near where you were digging today, but it looks like volcanic rock because it absorbed all of the ash, magma, and other chemicals around it.”

 

I turned back to the board. “The main lesson for today,” I said, and wrote down four words.

 

_Appearances can be deceiving._

 

“Run _all_ tests before you make an identification,” I said, looking at each student in turn. “You can be ninety-nine percent certain, but if you don’t test everything, you could end up being one hundred percent wrong.” I glanced at the chrono. “That’s probably as good a place to end as any. I’ll see you all next week. Remember to read chapters eight and nine over the weekend. They’re going to help you prepare for the geothermal unit.”

 

With a screeching of chair legs and shuffling of feet, my students rose and began making their way toward the back of the room, talking excitedly about their weekend plans. I watched them go, feeling a deep satisfaction. Rarely did a class go so smoothly and end on such an impactful note.

 

After a few moments, I went over to the pulverizer and began brushing the tiny fragments of stone out of its compartment. I was looking forward to going home, taking a shower, and spending the rest of the evening out on my front porch with a glass of wine. Maybe I’d get some climbing in tomorrow. It had been too long.

 

“There you are,” I heard someone say.

 

I turned around. “Nym,” I said in surprise. “What brings you down here?”

 

Bosco Nym, the head of the science department, was standing in the doorway. His green face was solemn as usual, but he was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, his excitement palpable even from this distance.

 

“I just got a call from IST,” he said.

 

I tensed. The Imperial Bureau of Science and Technology was one of many institutions I’d sent grant applications to last fall, but I hadn’t heard a word until now. Given the thousands of applications they received each year, I was positive that ours would be rejected. We were a tiny college in the Outer Rim, not some giant university in the Core.

 

“And?” I asked after a pause.

 

My boss could contain his smile no longer. “Your application was approved. You’re going to Kathol.” He crossed the floor of the lab, coming to stand beside me.

 

I should have felt elated, but I didn’t. “Wow,” I said, rather lamely.

 

Nym frowned. “I thought you’d be thrilled.”

 

“Don’t get me wrong,” I said hastily. “I’m glad we got the funding. I’d just rather have gotten it from a different source.”

 

“Why? What’s wrong with IST?”

 

“They’re Imperial.”

 

“These days, it’s almost impossible to find funding that’s _not_ Imperial.”

 

“That’s exactly my point,” I said. “These are the same people who’ve spent the past five years gutting Outer Rim universities and replacing them with private military colleges. They’re the reason enrollment is down, why there’s a hiring freeze, why we’ve had to take pay cuts three years in a row. So you’ll forgive me when I say I’m not exactly thrilled by the idea of accepting an Imperial grant.”

 

“Then why did you apply for it in the first place?”

 

“We didn’t have a shot in hell, so I figured why not? I never in a million years thought we would actually get it.”

 

“Let that be a lesson to you,” he said sternly. “Never ask for something unless you’re sure you want it.”

 

I scowled. He was right, but I didn’t want to admit it. Instead I turned around and resumed cleaning out the pulverizer.

 

“Look at it this way,” Nym said in a softer tone. “Can you imagine the level of publicity this is going to generate for our department? Not just the department, but the entire university. Two Elantris faculty members going into uncharted space, to the farthest edge of the Outer Rim, searching for alternative energy sources. I assume Shell will be going with you?”

 

“Of course,” I said. “He wouldn’t miss it.”

 

“In the end, it doesn’t matter where the money’s coming from,” Nym said. “The important thing is that you get to conduct your research. Right?”

 

“Right,” I said, resisting the urge to sigh. “So when does the high and mighty IST want us to report for duty?”

 

“Two weeks from today.”

 

“Two _weeks?_ ” I exclaimed, the brush falling out of my hand. “That’s ridiculous. They expect us to drop everything we’re doing and be ready to go in two weeks? We have jobs, lives. What about our classes?”

 

“We’ll figure something out,” Nym said calmly. “You can lecture remotely, people can substitute. An opportunity like this comes along once in a lifetime, Tessa. We’re not going to let something as small as scheduling get in the way of that.”

 

***

 

Ten minutes later I was walking home, my head spinning in a thousand different directions. In the distance, purple, snow-capped mountains formed a jagged skyline, too high up to be affected by the heat. I wished I could be up there now, scaling cliffs and rock faces in the quiet cold. Climbing required absolute concentration, leaving no room for the chaotic tangle of thoughts that usually occupied my brain, but there was no time for that now. I had to get home and tell Shell the news.

 

The house we shared was an ancient, two-story brick building that used to be the stately home of an Elantris professor, but had since been converted into off-campus housing. Shell had already been living in it when I came to teach here. Much like him, the house was something I’d initially hated, but had eventually grown on me. The outside was covered in wilting creeper vines, while the inside boasted scarred wooden floorboards, peeling paint, and rusty plumbing. The landlord was always promising to fix the place up one of these days, but the most he ever did was unclog the toilet and replace burnt out bulbs. On the plus side, the house was huge, almost cavernous, which made it ideal for hosting large gatherings. It also meant that I had the entire second floor to myself, so I could stay up until all hours without disturbing Shell, who occupied the lower level.

 

As I walked up the sagging wooden steps to the front door, I spotted Max at his usual post in the bay window, his huge head cocked to the side as he watched me. When he heard my key rattle in the lock, he jumped down from his perch and came to greet me, his back end wagging furiously. As always, he was completely silent. Max rarely barked, and when he did, one sharp word was enough to make him cringe and retreat into a corner, embarrassed he’d made such a scene.

 

“Go find Shell,” I told him.

 

Max turned around and lumbered down the front hallway towards the east end of the house. He was a beautiful dog, with grey dappled fur and soulful brown eyes. He was also gigantic— nearly fifty kilos, with powerfully built legs, a broad chest, and jaws that could cut through bone as easily as butter. To others, he might look fearsome, but as I’d reminded my students this afternoon, appearances could be deceiving. Shell took his dog on all of his expeditions, and had trained Max to be gentle and courteous to everyone he met. His polite manner, coupled with his goofy face and friendly nature, made him an excellent travel companion. He was also fiercely protective of us, and of Shell in particular. More than once he’d sensed danger long before we knew it was there— a storm approaching, a predator creeping up to our camp, even an impending avalanche. I couldn’t imagine going a trip without him.

 

I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. I sipped it slowly, leaning against the counter, lost in thought. The late-afternoon sun was pouring through the window, throwing bars of light across the dusty tabletop.

 

“Hey.” Shell came into the kitchen, his hair and beard shiny wet. He must have just gotten out of the shower. Max padded in after him and sat down in the center of the floor, pleased that his two favorite people were in the same room. “What’s up?”

 

“News,” I said.

 

“Good or bad?”

 

“Good, I guess.”

 

He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “Okay,” he said, after he’d cracked open the seal and taken a slow, measured sip. “Let’s hear it.”

 

“IST gave us the grant.”

 

He looked up sharply, making sure I wasn’t kidding. “Kathol?” he asked.

 

“Yep. Nym just told me.”

 

“Well, that’s fantastic.” Shell took another sip, eyeing me closely. “Isn’t it?”

 

I gave a slight shrug. “I’m not sure how I feel about it, to be honest.”

 

“Because you’re thinking of leaving?”

 

I stared down at the floor, not wanting to answer him. As much as the board might try to deny it, Elantris was struggling. Layoffs and budget cuts were constant, and I’d been to more retirement parties in the past year than I cared to remember. Shell had arrived here at just the right time, when Elantris was flourishing and before the Empire’s influence reached the Outer Rim. When I was hired two years later, Imperial academies were popping up everywhere, drawing away students and faculty alike. Many of my former colleagues were now Imperial consultants, the promise of a six-figure salary and fully funded research too much for them to resist. For a long time, I refused to consider leaving Elantris, but after five years with no offer of a permanent position, my future here was looking increasingly bleak.

 

I felt a pang of guilt, remembering the ecstatic look on Nym’s face as he’d given me the news. To him, this grant was a chance to put Elantris on the map, to attract potential donors and future students, to keep our tiny college afloat in a vast sea of Imperial competitors. How could I accept such a responsibility when I wasn’t even sure I wanted to stay here?

 

“You have to do what’s best for you,” Shell said, breaking into my thoughts. “I get that. But this is once in a lifetime, Tess. That signature we’ve been chasing for two years? We’ll finally be able to figure out where it’s coming from, what’s causing it. And if it is what we think it is…” He raised his eyebrows. “There’ll be no shortage of job offers.”

 

“And if it’s not what we think?”

 

He shrugged. “Then we’ll have lost a year. So what? Our jobs will be here when we get back.”

 

“Yours will,” I said. “Mine might not. A lot can happen in a year.”

 

“A lot can stay the same, too,” he countered. “Think about it. We don’t have families to support. We don’t have boyfriends. Now’s the time to take risks. I don’t think you should turn this down.”

 

I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache start to form. “I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t think. This is all happening too fast. They want us ready in two weeks, Shell. That’s not enough time.”

 

Shell set his beer down on the counter. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s take a walk.”

 

***

 

I’d always thought that dusk was the most beautiful time of day. Something about the fading light and cooling air made me feel both relaxed and energized. Dusk was the bridge between day and night, a sort of in-between time where there were no expectations, only possibilities.

 

As Shell and I walked up into the foothills outside of town, Max trotting ahead of us, I started to feel a little better. The twin moons, Lixu and Lossu, were beginning to emerge, and I was grateful for the sight. The ancient people of Cirrus believed that the moons were women sent down from the heavens in order to protect them from Ranu, the hot-blooded sun god. Ranu burned fiercely day and night, trying to drive the Cirran people out and reclaim the planet for his own. Another goddess took pity on the Cirrans and sent her twin daughters, Lixu and Lossu, to temper the sun god’s wrath. Each daughter chose one half of Cirrus to protect, taking the form of moons so that their coolness would counteract Ranu’s heat, and in doing so, they restored balance to the planet. Every few years, the sisters’ paths would cross, causing both moons to appear in the sky at the same time. When this rare event occurred, it meant there would be a bountiful harvest the following year. Shell might laugh at me for believing in myths, but I felt that the presence of both moons tonight was a good omen. Maybe they could help guide me towards the right path.

 

We reached the crest of the highest hill and I sat down on the hard-packed sand, enjoying the warmth radiating up from the ground. Shell sat down beside me, resting his elbows loosely on his knees. Together we watched the sun sink below the horizon, rippling slightly in a sea of heat waves. Ranu was settling down for the night, the moons’ calm, cool presence lulling him to sleep.

 

“I can’t remember the last time we did this,” Shell said after a while. “Just spending time together and not working.”

 

“We’ve been busy.”

 

“We’ve been lazy,” he said. “Friends are supposed to make time for each other. We haven’t been doing that lately. I miss it.”

 

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Shell rarely let anyone know how he was really feeling. After a minute I reached out and patted his knee.

 

“I miss it, too,” I said. “We’ll make more time, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Max suddenly emerged from a clump of scraggly bushes, a large stick clenched between his teeth. He walked up to Shell, dropped the stick on the ground in front of him, tail wagging.

 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Shell asked him. “Eat it?”

 

Max cocked his head and whined. Shell grinned, picked up the stick, and threw it in a high arc over the dog’s head. Max turned and bounded after it, making snorting sounds.

 

“You’ll be doing that for the next hour,” I said.

 

“As long as I don’t have to get up.” Shell settled himself more comfortably on the ground. Sure enough, Max brought the stick back within seconds, dropped it next to Shell, and looked at him expectantly.

 

We took turns playing fetch with Max until he was finally worn out. He collapsed next to us, panting happily, and began gnawing on the stick, slowly shredding it into tiny pieces. By that time the sun had gone down completely and the dark blanket of night had descended. I lay down on my back, folding my arms behind my head, and gazed up at Lixu and Lossu, sisters reunited after years apart.

 

“I feel like I’m at a crossroads,” I said at last. “And no matter which way I go, it won’t be the right choice.”

 

“You worry too much,” Shell said.

 

“You don’t worry enough.”

 

“Maybe not. But I know you, Tess. You’re not happy unless you’re moving.”

 

“Maybe that’s because I’m afraid to sit still.”

 

“Or it could be because you just like exploring.” He reached his arm upwards, gesturing at the stars. “There’s a lot of universe out there.”

 

I sighed. “You really want me to take this grant, don’t you?”

 

“I want you to be happy,” he said. “This past year, you haven’t been happy. Not really.”

 

“That’s not true,” I said. “I like teaching.”

 

“You like it, but you don’t love it. I’ve seen what really drives you, and it’s not standing in front of a classroom talking. You want to be out there charting new planets, digging into their guts, finding out what they’re made of. You want to go into the unknown, see what no one’s seen before. That’s who you are. Not a teacher, not a consultant or a lecturer. You’re an explorer.”

 

I sat up, brushing sand off my shirt. “It just feels like running away, somehow. Like I’m avoiding responsibility.”

 

“Don’t think of it like that,” he said. “Think of it as a sabbatical. You’re taking a year off to clear your head, figure things out. If you decide to come back after the grant’s done, great. If not, Elantris will survive.” He sat up too. “I think you need this.”

 

I scooped up a handful of sand and let it run through my fingers, thinking about my students, my colleagues, all the friends I’d made over the years, the comfortable, familiar places I’d grown to know and love. I would have to leave all of them behind, and there was no guarantee they would be here when I got back.

 

On the other hand, there was Kathol. One of the least unexplored regions of the galaxy, at the farthest edge of the Outer Rim Territories. If I took this grant, it would mean getting to see worlds I’d only read about— Sapella, Binaros, Pitann. It would mean being able to explore the legendary Kathol Rift, a vast, uncharted nebula with potential sources of energy never before documented. And it might provide answers to questions I’d been asking for the past two years.

 

“I think I need it, too,” I said finally.

 

“That’s the Tessa I’ve been looking for.” Shell stood up and held out his hand to me.

 

I let him pull me to my feet, and then shrieked in surprise as he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.

 

“Put me down,” I yelled. Max scrambled up and began barking.

 

“Kathol,” Shell shouted, his voice echoing over the empty hills. “Into the great unknown we go!”

 

I dissolved into laughter as he began spinning in a circle, balancing me on his shoulder. Max jumped up on us, still barking excitedly, pleased with the new game we’d invented.

 

“Cut it out,” I said between giggles, pounding on his back with my fist. “You’re going to make me sick.”

 

Shell set me down, but grabbed my hands and continued spinning me in a circle. His enthusiasm was impossible to resist, and I finally allowed myself to be caught up in the moment. I spun about, kicking up sand and pebbles, my braids coming unpinned and falling down around my shoulders.

 

“Kathol,” I shouted up at the sky. “Here we come.”

 

At last, our euphoria subsided, and we collapsed on the ground, breathless from laughing. Max followed suit, and the three of us lay there in a heap, panting.

 

“Well,” I said when I could speak, “you wanted more time together. Looks like you’re going to get it.”

 

“Eighteen months in space.” Shell shook his head. “I’d like to think we’ll still be friends at the end, but it’s more likely we’ll have murdered each other.”

 

“Maybe we should take someone with us,” I said. “A mediator, if you will. The grant covers three researchers.”

 

“Not a bad idea. Who were you thinking?”

 

“What about Bennett?” I suggested.

 

“He's busy chasing roggwarts on Vendaxa.”

 

“He'd drop all that in a second to explore Kathol.”

 

“Well, then ask him.”

 

***

 

Bennett was thrilled at the prospect of conducting survey work in Kathol. “I’m wrapping up out here in a week and heading back home,” he told me, his voice coming in faint and scratchy through the comm. “Can they pick me up on Kuat on the twentieth?”

 

“I’ll see if I can arrange it,” I promised.

 

“This is so exciting!” he exclaimed. “I can’t wait to see you both.”

 

“Me either,” I said, grinning. “Shell’s looking forward to kicking your ass at sabaac.”

 

“He’s certainly welcome to try.”

 

“Just wait, old man,” Shell shouted from across the room. “I’ve been practicing.”

 

“Practice all you want,” Bennett shouted back. “It won’t do you any good.”

 

“We’ll see.”

 

“Call me when you know more,” Bennett said in a normal tone of voice.

 

“I will.” I keyed off the comm and threw a cushion at Shell.

 

The next week passed in a blur. It had been three years since I’d been on an expedition and I’d forgotten just how stressful and unpredictable things could be. Any spare moment I spent making calls, mostly to IST and the Imperial Navy’s administrative office, trying to get a hundred questions answered. The people I spoke with were infuriatingly vague. Our ship would have a full lab, but they didn’t know whether it would be equipped for geosciences, or even what kind of ship it would be. They also didn’t know whether a dog would be allowed on the expedition, stating that decision would be made at the discretion of the ship’s commander. The only thing they seemed to know for certain was that we needed to report to Tralee Naval Base, an Imperial facility located on the planet Esseles, at the time and date set by IST.

 

“You’d think a military installation would be more concerned with details,” I complained to Shell one evening, after yet another conversation with an administrator who sounded more like a droid than a human being. “How can they not even know which ship we’ll be flying out on?”

 

“They probably don’t know yet,” Shell said. He was sitting on the sagging couch, scraping bits of dried mud off the boots he’d dug out of storage that afternoon.

 

“Why would they send us to a base if they don’t even know which ship we’ll be on?”

 

“It’s a huge base,” he said. “Hundreds of ships fly out of there every day. Odds are one of them’s heading for Kathol. The Navy’s just starting to set up shop in that sector, so most of the ships going out there are cargo vessels. Freighters, bulk cruisers, that kind of thing.”

 

“So you think we’ll hitch a ride on one of those, then rendezvous with our permanent ship once we’re out there?”

 

“Who knows how they figure these things out,” Shell said, shrugging. “One thing’s for sure, though. Once we get on base, be prepared for a long, boring wait.”

 

“Lovely,” I said, gritting my teeth. The first leg of an expedition was always slow, especially if the funding was coming from an outside source, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. Delays and complications never bothered Shell— he could emotionally detach from nearly any situation, should the need arise— but they drove me crazy. Something always went wrong, no matter how much I tried to plan ahead. A name was misspelled, the grant office hadn’t filled out the paperwork correctly, a reservation couldn’t be found in the computer system, someone had to call their supervisor, we had to repeat information over and over to different people, and so on. I shuddered to think how many errors and delays would result from an Imperial organization handling our logistics.

 

When I wasn’t dealing with the Empire’s bureaucrats, I was tying up loose ends, both at home and at work. True to his word, Nym made sure classes were covered, both for the rest the semester and the following year. My students were not pleased with the abrupt change— I was an advisor to many of them— so I made sure to meet with everyone to discuss their various academic situations. By the end of the week, I finally felt confident they would be able to continue on without me, but it didn’t stop me from tearing up as I said goodbye. Some of them were graduating this spring, and it hurt knowing that I wouldn’t see them walk the stage.

 

The last thing we had to do was move out of the house so it could be rented to new tenants. Shell had the idea of advertising the bigger items on the campus bulletin board, with the promise that “If you can haul it away, it’s yours.” This was extremely effective, so much so that every time I came home, some piece of furniture would be missing and I would have to adjust accordingly. He also insisted we use up all the food in the kitchen before we left, which resulted in several bizarre casseroles and eating a lot of things straight from the container. It was not uncommon for me to come home to find an empty can or jar sitting on a windowsill, often with a spoon sticking out of the top. Meanwhile, Max decided that the best way to cope with all this stress and uncertainty was to never let us out of his sight, so every time I had to carry a box downstairs or put something into storage, he was either underfoot or glued to my hip, which only added to my frayed nerves.

 

Looming over everything was the knowledge that I would technically be working for the Empire while in Kathol. Despite the reassurances from Shell and Nym that I was making the right decision, the idea of conducting research with Imperial money and resources still gave me a slightly sick feeling, almost as if I were doing something wrong. No matter which way I looked at it, I couldn’t see how accepting this grant made me any better than my former colleagues who’d taken contracts with IST or other Imperial firms. Even if the work was temporary, I was still using Imperial funds for my own gain. That didn’t say much for either my loyalty or my integrity.

 

Another source of stress was the fact that we’d be working closely with the Imperial Navy during our mission. Despite growing up in the Colonies, where the Empire’s presence had been established early on, I’d never been interested in the military, either as a career option or from a historical perspective. I always found the blind obedience and strict discipline required of soldiers slightly repugnant— it reminded me too much of the way my brother and I had been raised. I’d never met an Imperial officer or interacted with Imperial troops. I’d never even set foot on a military base before, and the closer our departure date became, the more nervous I felt.

 

Everything was in such chaos, it almost wasn’t a surprise when I came home one night to find Shell sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, a frown creasing his forehead, his comlink held loosely in his hand. A can of boiled beans sat beside him, mercifully unopened. Max thumped his tail against the floor in greeting.

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, depositing an armload of packing boxes on the floor.

 

“Your mother called me.”

 

“What?” My shoulders tensed. “When?”

 

“Just now.”

 

“Why did she call _you,_ of all people?”

 

He set the comm down, took off his glasses and started polishing them on his shirt. “I’m your emergency contact with the college, so they gave her my number. Apparently she’s been trying to get in touch with you for days.”

 

“I know.” I leaned against the wall, wishing I had a chair to collapse into. “I’ve been meaning to call her back. I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

 

“Maybe you should. It sounded urgent.”

 

“What exactly did you tell her?”

 

“The truth.” He looked up. “That you and I are headed to Kathol next week, and we’ll be gone for a year and a half.”

 

“Damn it, Shell.”

 

“What was I supposed to do, lie?”

 

“Yes,” I snapped.

 

“Well, I’m sorry. I’m not in the habit of lying to people’s mothers. Not even yours.”

 

I started pacing back and forth, the floorboards creaking under my feet. Shell watched me silently for a few moments.

 

“What do you think she wants?” he asked.

 

“The same thing she always wants. For me to come home.”

 

“Are you going to?”

 

“I wasn’t planning on it.” I stopped pacing and glared at him. “But now thanks to you, she’s got new ammunition. I can’t believe you told her.”

 

“Blame me for your problems if you want, but it won’t make them go away.” Shell heaved himself to his feet. “Deal with this like an adult and call her back.”

 

“Don’t you lecture me on being an adult. You’re the worst excuse for an adult I’ve ever seen.”

 

He ignored me and snapped his fingers at Max, who scrambled up. He followed Shell out of the kitchen, leaving me alone and silently fuming. Then I stalked out of the room and went upstairs into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

 

It took another ten minutes before I finally worked up the courage to dial my home number. It rang several times, and I had almost started to hope that she wouldn’t answer, when there was a click. My mother’s face appeared on the holo screen, looking far more careworn than the last time we spoke.

 

“Tessalyn.” Her voice was sharp. “I’ve been trying for days. I was beginning to think you’d fallen off a cliff.”

 

I winced at hearing my full name. “Stop being dramatic, Mama. I’ve just been busy.”

 

“Too busy to let your own mother know you’ll be gone for eighteen months?”

 

“I was going to tell you.”

 

“When? When you were already halfway across the galaxy and it was too late for me to stop you?”

 

I decided to ignore that. “So why did you call, Mama? What’s so incredibly important that you had to contact the university and then bother Shell on his personal comm?”

 

“Believe me, if there had been anyone else to contact, I would have. I despise that man. Why you’re still friends with him is beyond me.”

 

“Why did you call?” I repeated.

 

She pursed her lips, evidently trying to decide whether to keep chastising me or tell me her reason for calling. I waited.

 

“Aunt Maeve is extremely ill,” she said at last. “The doctors say she could pass any day now.”

 

Quickly I ran through the list of aging relatives in my head, but the name didn’t ring a bell. “Who?” I said after a moment.

 

She let out an impatient huff. “Maeve, Great Aunt Maeve. You know who she is.”

 

“I don’t think I do.”

 

“She’s your grandmother’s youngest sister. She bought you that yellow dress for your birthday one year.”

 

I suppressed a sigh. “I don’t remember, Mama.”

 

“You see, this is what happens when you don’t come home for years at a time. If you were here, I wouldn’t have to keep refreshing your memory over and over again.”

 

“Yes, you would,” I retorted. “No sane person can keep track of all the great-aunts and great-uncles and cousins-twice-removed our family has produced. It’s ridiculous.”

 

“I’m sorry we’re not as interesting as a pile of rocks,” she said, her voice brittle. “But we’re still your family. You need to come home and pay your respects to Maeve before she passes.”

 

“Mama, this is a very bad time. We’re leaving in less than a week.”

 

“Tessa, please.” Her face was pained. “When was the last time you were home? Five years ago? Six?”

 

I had no answer to that. She knew perfectly well why I’d stayed away for so long.

 

“If you won’t do it for her,” Mama said, “do it for your grandmother. It’s what she would want. Maeve was her favorite sister, just like you were her favorite granddaughter.”

 

 

I sighed. “Fine,” I said after a long pause. “I’ll book a ship first thing in the morning.”

 

“Thank you. Let me know when you’re getting in and I’ll meet you at port.”

 

“Okay,” I said resignedly.

 

“Goodbye.” She clicked off.

 

I sank down on my mattress and sat there silently for a while, staring at the wall. A memory was slowly surfacing, although I couldn’t be sure how much of it was mine and how much of it was my mother’s. I was sitting on a hard wooden chair, surrounded by a flock of wrinkled old women, wearing a lacy, pale yellow dress that was terribly itchy. One of the women was speaking to me, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying. Then I felt my mother’s sharp tug on my wrist, pulling me aside into the drawing room, scolding me in a low, grating voice. I’d done something wrong, but I had no idea what it was. A fitting summation of our relationship, I reflected― me committing some sort of social transgression, and her attempting to cover it up.

 

There was a soft rap on the door. “I’m still mad at you,” I said without looking.

 

The door opened a crack, and Shell shoved a takeout container into the room with his foot. I let out an exasperated groan and stood up. “Get in here, you idiot.”

 

He pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside, already eating out of his own container. I picked mine up and together we sat down on the mattress, slurping up our fried noodles in silence. Max came in, snuffling around our feet for any morsels we’d dropped. Finding none, he lay down and put his head on my foot.

 

“I’m going to Reena,” I said finally.

 

Shell didn’t look at me. “When?”

 

“Soon as I can find a ship that’s heading to the Colonies.”

 

“Want me to go with you?”

 

“No, you need to stay here and move the rest of our stuff out. That’s what you get for talking to my mother.”

 

He stuffed another forkful of noodles into his mouth. “You know I’d go if you needed me.”

 

“I know.” I set my container on the floor. Max immediately tipped it over and shoved his snout inside. “This is something I need to do alone.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have told her.”

 

“It’s not your fault.” I reached down to pet Max’s head. “I knew one of them would get me to come back eventually. I just wasn’t ready for it.”

 

“Remember,” he said. “This is your life. Not theirs.”

 

“Thanks,” I said, “but I don’t think they’re ever going to see it that way.”


	2. Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admiral Thrawn travels to Coruscant to retrieve his new science officer. During a visit to a museum, he meets a mysterious and fascinating woman.

I had never liked Coruscant. Many people were enamored of its scale and glittering vistas, but I had never felt comfortable amid the planet’s towering skyscrapers and endless streams of traffic. There was no room to breathe, to think, or plan ahead. You were swept up in the hustle and bustle of a city that was its own living, breathing organism. You went where the city wanted you to go, not the other way around, and I liked being in control of my own destination too much to derive any enjoyment from such unpredictability.

 

The only aspect I truly enjoyed about Coruscant was its bottomless supply of art and culture. The museums and galleries scattered throughout the city’s top levels were among the finest in the galaxy, and I was looking forward to visiting one or two before the _Chimaera_ left orbit.

 

We dropped out of hyperspace as I was finishing a mission report. Utterly absorbed, I didn’t realize that someone had entered my office until a shadow fell across my desk. My head snapped up quickly, but I relaxed when I saw who it was.

 

“Vanto,” I said. “You startled me.”

 

 _Vanto tilts his head slightly. His expression holds subtle satisfaction, perhaps at the knowledge that he has caught his commander off guard._ “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “You didn’t answer when I knocked.”

 

I surveyed him silently for a moment. Eli Vanto was still young, but he was no longer the gawky, wide-eyed, nervous cadet he’d been when we first met. He was still small and skinny, with the same disheveled mop of brown hair, ruddy complexion, and sense of wry humor as before, but he’d grown more confident during the years we’d served together in the Empire. He’d become skilled as well as shrewd, no longer hesitating to voice opinions during tactical briefings or make calculated risks in battle. He’d also lost his tendency to hunch when anxious or uncomfortable, and now stood just as straight and tall as I did, hands behind his back and shoulders squared, no matter what the situation. Although he still had a long way to go, I was both impressed and pleased with his progress.

 

“My apologies, Commander,” I said. “What is it?”

 

 _Vanto’s body stance shifts. His spine straightens and his chin tilts upward, indicating that he has news of some importance._ “Lieutenant Balik has arrived. She’s waiting in shuttle bay four.”

 

“Excellent.” I set my datapad aside and stood up. Lieutenant Balik was replacing the _Chimaera_ ’s former science officer Lieutenant Dunn, who had recently been transferred to Murdo Base. I sincerely hoped Balik would be an improvement over her predecessor, who was legendary for his lack of organization, as well as a tendency to break nearly everything he touched.

 

“Did you speak with her at all?” Vanto asked as we walked out of my office and down the hallway.

 

“Briefly,” I answered.

 

“What was she like?”

 

I thought for a moment. Balik had sounded quite young, although her authoritative tone gave the impression of someone much older. She had a Coruscanti accent, though not one that was familiar to me, and her replies to my questions had been polite but short, almost terse, as if she was impatient to end the conversation and return to work.

 

“She wasted few words,” I said at last.

 

 _The corners of Vanto’s mouth quiver slightly, indicating amusement._ “Not a talker, huh?”

 

“That was my assessment as well.”

 

We reached the lift and stepped inside. Vanto pressed the button for the main level.

 

“What’s her background?” he asked as the doors closed and we began moving downwards. “Engineering? Physics?”

 

“Human physiology and genetics,” I answered. “Her research is primarily focused on regenerative biotechnology.”

 

“Regenerative? You mean like regrowing organs?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

 _Vanto’s eyebrows rise. His expression holds skepticism._ “With respect, sir, it seems to me that she’d be better off serving on a medical ship, not a Star Destroyer. Can she handle combat?”

 

“I have spoken with her commanding officer,” I said. “Captain Wells assured me that Balik is a capable soldier, both innovative and strategic during battle. More than once she has developed highly creative solutions to seemingly unsolvable problems.”

 

“Sounds like someone else I know,” he said dryly.

 

“Indeed.”

 

The lift stopped and the doors slid open to reveal the ship’s main hangar― arguably the most important area of the ship after the command bridge. If the bridge was the _Chimaera_ ’s brain, I reflected, then the main hangar was the Star Destroyer’s circulatory system, pumping vital nutrients through its body and defending against outside threats. Shuttles and freighters flew in fresh crew and supplies, while fighters and troop transports flew out to protect the ship from attack. The hangar even looked a bit like a bloodstream, especially when viewed from a certain height. Thousands of lifeforms flowed across the floor, creating a constant sea of activity― duty officers barking orders, crewmen hauling cargo, mechanics running diagnostics, aides delivering messages, mouse droids scurrying to and fro, pilots performing routine checks, stormtrooper squads marching in formation.

 

As always, I felt a mixture of intense pride and overwhelming responsibility as I walked across the hangar. I’d only been in command of the _Chimaera_ for a few months and was still getting used to the sheer size and scope of the ship’s power. The Destroyer was over sixteen hundred meters long, with twelve decks, eight turrets, six turbolasers, and nearly forty thousand crewmen. Never before had I commanded a warship so large or been entrusted with the lives of so many, and though I would never admit it to anyone, there were times I felt almost frightened by the weight of such authority.

 

We reached shuttle bay four and walked inside. A small freighter was docked there, one of many transports bringing cargo from Coruscant’s orbital supply depots. I saw a woman standing at the end of the freighter’s ramp, watching crewmen unload crates and shipping containers. This must be Lieutenant Balik. She had the unmistakable look of a new arrival― standing ramrod straight, hands behind her back, looking around expectantly, a small traveling case sitting beside her.

 

As we approached the freighter, Balik turned and caught sight of us. She immediately snapped to attention, and as we reached her, gave a crisp salute.

 

“Lieutenant Kendra Balik reporting for duty as ordered, sir,” she said. _Her voice sounds as it had over comlink― brisk and full of energy, the words coming out in short bursts like blaster fire._

 

“Welcome to the _Chimaera_ , Lieutenant,” I said.

 

“Thank you, sir.” She lowered her arm.

 

_One glance confirms that I am correct about Balik’s age. She looks no more than twenty-two or twenty-three years old, although she carries herself with the confidence of a far more experienced officer. She is one of the tallest human women I have ever seen― her eyes are nearly level with mine. Her frame is light and thin, with long limbs and large hands and feet. Her eyes are bright green, creating a striking contrast against her coal-black skin. They move rapidly back and forth, taking in everything― me, Vanto, the crewmen walking past us, the entrance to the main hangar, the mouse droids scurrying along the floor. She does not seem surprised that I am alien, which either means someone has already briefed her on that point, or she simply does not care._

 

I gestured to Vanto, who was standing beside me. “This is Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto, my personal aide,” I said.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Vanto said. _His voice rises in pitch and his hands twitch slightly, indicating nervousness._

 

“Likewise.” Balik gave him a respectful nod, but remained standing at attention. Evidently she was going to stay that way until I gave her permission to do otherwise.

 

“At ease,” I said after a pause.

 

“Yes, sir.” Balik moved her feet apart and relaxed her shoulders. Her arms emerged from behind her back, coming to rest at her sides, and intense curiosity suddenly swept over me. The lower half of Balik’s left arm was missing. The limb stopped just above her elbow, the sleeve of her uniform folded neatly over the the stump, concealing any trace of skin.

 

Instantly, I began to speculate, running through what I already knew of Balik’s background and comparing it with my current observations. There was a significant amount of muscle in her right arm and shoulder, which meant she had spent many years building up strength on that side of her body in order to make up for having less on the left. It was therefore unlikely that she had lost the arm in combat, and far more likely she had lost it long ago. Perhaps as a teenager, or even as a child. How, then, had she been accepted into the Empire with only one functional arm? The Navy was not kind to those with physical limitations. Perhaps she had a cybernetic limb at the time. If so, why did she not have one now?

 

_Balik’s eyes narrow slightly, her right hand curling into a fist. Her expression holds challenge and a hint of defiance. She expects me to point out her inadequacy, or perhaps question her ability to serve aboard my ship. And she is prepared to defend herself against such attacks, since she has encountered them many times before._

 

I swallowed my questions. Curious as I might be, there was no need to call attention to Balik’s missing limb unless it directly impacted her ability to carry out her duties. I decided to remain silent on the matter, at least for the time being.

 

Vanto, apparently, saw no need for such discretion. “What happened to your arm?” he asked. _His voice holds curiosity and a touch of concern._

 

 _Balik’s eyes shift from me to Vanto. The muscles in her arms and shoulders relax, indicating her defensiveness is slightly lower than before._ “Bitten off by a rathtar, sir,” she replied.

 

Vanto winced. “Really? When did that happen?”

 

“Last week, sir.”

 

There was a long pause while he stared at her. The science officer’s face was solemn, but the corners of her mouth were turned upwards in a slight smile.

 

“Are you serious?” Vanto said at last.

 

“No, sir,” Balik said.

 

“You’re joking?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Why would you joke about that?”

 

“It’s a habit, sir.”

 

Vanto shot a glance at me. I raised my eyebrows but said nothing.

 

“Well,” he said, turning back to Balik, “if you’re going to serve aboard the _Chimaera,_ that’s a habit you’ll need to break.”

 

“You don’t allow jokes, sir?” Balik asked. _She tilts her head to the side, her expression holding amusement._

 

“I…” Vanto trailed off. “No,” he said after a moment. “I mean yes, we do. Just… not all the time.” He glanced at me again, clearly at a loss for words.

 

“I think what Commander Vanto is trying to say,” I said, suppressing a smile, “is that while we appreciate humor, it is not always appropriate in every situation. So ration your jokes wisely, Lieutenant.”

 

“Understood, sir,” Balik said. _Her mouth twitches again, indicating that she is still highly amused by my aide’s discomfiture._

 

“Now then,” I said. “Let us go up to my office and get better acquainted.”

 

“Very good, sir.” Balik picked up her traveling case and followed me back out into the main hangar. Vanto fell into step beside us, his expression slightly befuddled. He seemed to be trying to determine whether or not the science officer had just made fun of him.

 

“As I recall, your research focuses primarily on genetics,” I said as we walked across the hangar toward the lifts. “Specifically, regenerative biotechnology.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Balik said. _Her shoulders straighten and her eyes widen slightly, indicating intense focus._ “Ultimately, my goal is to create a biotech that can isolate and repair damaged cells. In four or five years, I envision the Navy using it to treat most combat injuries.”

 

“It is an unusual approach,” I said. “Most Imperial scientists believe the answer lies with cybernetics and other genetic enhancements.”

 

“It’s the easier solution, sir,” Balik said.

 

“But not the better one?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“It’s not as reliable,” she said. “The human body is more adaptable and responsive than even the most sophisticated cybernetic. If we can harness its natural ability to heal itself, the possibilities are almost unlimited.”

 

We reached the lifts. Vanto reached out and pressed a button on the wall panel.

 

“Can you give me an example of how such technology might work in the field?” I asked.

 

“I can, sir,” Balik said quickly. “Imagine a trooper gets dropped into the middle of a ground assault. He takes a blaster bolt to the stomach and starts bleeding out. If he doesn’t receive medical attention in the next ten minutes, he’s not going to make it. But the medic’s a hundred meters away, pinned down by enemy fire, and the evac team is still fifteen minutes out. Unless a miracle happens, he’s already dead.” She paused for breath. “What if there was a way to stabilize him until help arrived? A regenerative serum, let’s say, in the form of an injection. The trooper could inject himself right there on the field, and the serum would immediately locate the source of the injury and start repairing damaged cells. A short-term solution, to prevent the body from shutting down completely. Once the medic or evac team arrived, the work would have already begun. They could finish the regeneration process once they got him back to the ship.”

 

I could see why Captain Wells had spoken so highly of Balik. The young woman’s enthusiasm for her subject was palpable, and she radiated confidence, both in body language and tone of voice. Add that to her quick wit and sharp eyes, and you had the makings of a formidable force in battle.

 

The lift arrived, and as the doors slid open, I moved aside to let Balik through first. She looked a bit surprised by my deference, but hesitated only for a fraction of a second before stepping inside. I went in after her, followed by Vanto.

 

“Most intriguing,” I said as the lift doors closed and we began moving upwards. “And you envision this process being implemented in less than five years?”

 

“That’s correct, sir,” Balik said.

 

“Are there others who share your optimism?”

 

The lieutenant’s eager look faded. “Not many, sir,” she said. “As you said, most scientists think cybernetics is the solution.”

 

“You must admit it has some advantages.”

 

“Only in the short term,” she countered.

 

“What do you mean?” Vanto asked. _His eyes are focused intently on Balik’s face, following every word with rapt attention._

 

“The Navy likes to see results quickly,” Balik said. “We don’t always consider the long term implications of a solution. There’s a tendency to assume that if something looks good on paper, it works equally well in practice. That’s not always true. Genetic mutations are unstable and unpredictable. Cybernetics break and malfunction, and they’re expensive to replace. Biotech, on the other hand, utilizes a resource we already have― the human body’s capacity to regenerate and adapt. It’s safer, less costly, and more sustainable in the long run.”

 

As I listened, I found myself wondering if Balik had come from somewhere other than Coruscant. Her accent was rather odd. It didn’t roll off her tongue naturally, but sounded clipped, almost forced, as if something much stronger was fighting to get out from underneath. Perhaps she was simply nervous― people’s speech patterns often became erratic when they were under stress― but something told me it was more than that.

 

We reached the command level and the doors slid open. I led the way down the hall to my office. Senior Lieutenant Petra was stationed at his desk as usual, and saluted as I approached.

 

“Admiral, sir,” he said.

 

“Good afternoon,” I said. “This is Senior Lieutenant Kendra Balik, our new science officer. Lieutenant, if you give your code cylinder to Petra, he can update it with access codes for your quarters and the lab.”

 

“Ma’am,” Petra said, stepping forward with a friendly smile.

 

Silently, Balik unclipped her code cylinder from her breast pocket and handed it to him. Petra took it. _His expression holds disappointment. Evidently he was expecting a smile in return._

 

“I’ll have it ready in ten minutes, sir,” he said.

 

“Very good.” I turned to Balik. “Let us step into my office. You can collect the cylinder on your way out.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Balik followed me inside. As with most first-time visitors, she looked surprised at the amount of art scattered around the room, but made no comment. She was probably filing the information away, just like everything else she’d observed so far.

 

“Please be seated,” I said, going behind my desk and sitting down in my chair.

 

“Thank you, sir.” Balik sat down in the chair to my right. Vanto took the one on the left.

 

“You have clearly put a great deal of time and energy into your research,” I said. “Have you had any success in practice?”

 

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Balik said. She took a small data card out of her hip pocket and handed it to me. “These are test results going back six months. It should give you a basic idea of what I’m trying to accomplish.”

 

I slid the card into my data terminal and pulled up the information. The display showed several charts and graphics, along with a great deal of scientific jargon and complex equations.

 

“As you can see,” Balik said, shifting her chair forward slightly, “I’ve had a limited amount of success with the cellular regeneration of mice and other small rodents.”

 

“You experiment on _mice_?” Vanto said. “What do you do exactly? Cut their legs off and then try to regrow them?”

 

“Vanto,” I said reprovingly.

 

“It’s all right, sir,” Balik said. She turned to my aide. “No, Commander. I use cell samples taken from the mice and then recreate their genetic structure in a lab environment.”

 

“So… fake mice,” he said.

 

“Yes,” she said. “Although eventually, I’ll have to use live ones to get accurate results.”

 

“So _then_ you’ll cut their legs off?”

 

“I suppose so,” Balik said. _Her tone is light, almost casual, indicating that she is not entirely serious._ “Either that, or use human test subjects. Would you care to volunteer?”

 

“No thanks,” Vanto said, his leg twitching.

 

“I thought as much,” Balik said, turning back to me. “So far, sir, the results are very promising. Nearly a seventy percent success rate. Mind you, it’s still early. But I’m hoping that in my spare time, I’ll be able to make more progress.”

 

“I see,” I said, gazing at the display screen. As Balik had said, the data showed a high success rate, although I would have to study it further to fully understand the results. And while her enthusiasm was contagious, I couldn’t help but wonder if the lieutenant’s eagerness to find a solution was impacting her ability to remain objective. It was all too easy to let one’s own preconceptions influence an outcome, especially when the stakes were high. However, if Balik’s theories were correct and she was successful in developing a biotechnical method of healing injuries, it would give both the Navy and the Army a huge tactical advantage in combat. And if she wasn’t successful, she had many other talents that could be put to good use. You didn’t often see soldiers who possessed equal parts strength, dexterity, and balance, but this one certainly did. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could match me in hand-to-hand combat, one-armed or not.

 

“I will be honest, Lieutenant,” I said at last. “I am not yet convinced that this is a viable alternative to cybernetics. However, I will concede that it has potential. Therefore, I will allow you to continue your research as long as it does not interfere with your regular duties.”

 

“Of course, sir,” Balik said quickly. _Her expression holds both relief and gratitude._ “I appreciate it.”

 

“I expect you will want to settle in, so I will not keep you any longer,” I said. I took the data card out of the terminal, handed it back to her, and pressed the comm switch. “Lieutenant Petra?”

 

“Sir,” he replied. “The code cylinder is ready.”

 

“Very good. Please escort Lieutenant Balik to her quarters and make sure she is briefed for the tactical meeting tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

I keyed off and rose to my feet. Vanto and Balik immediately followed suit.

 

“Once again, welcome aboard, Lieutenant,” I said. “I will see you at 0700 tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Balik said, snapping to attention once again. “Thank you, sir.”

 

“Dismissed.”

 

She saluted and strode out. Once the doors were closed, I sat back down in my chair. Vanto did the same.

 

“Awfully funny for a scientist,” he said after a moment.

 

“Indeed,” I said.

 

“And she’s missing an arm.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I wonder what really happened to it.”

 

“I suspect it is not a topic that she enjoys discussing,” I said. “We may learn the truth someday, or we may never know. As long as it does not impact her performance, it does not concern me.”

 

“It doesn’t concern me, either,” Vanto said. “I’m just curious, is all.”

 

“As am I,” I replied. “I am also curious to see how the senior staff react to her.”

 

“I think Dr. Kahn’s going to be very interested in her work,” Vanto said. “Lieutenant Grey might be, too. I’m not sure about the rest of them.”

 

“Commander Brax will be suspicious at first, as he always is,” I said. “Captain Faro may also need some convincing.”

 

“Enzler will probably like her,” Vanto said thoughtfully. “She doesn’t waste words either. Orbo and Moran will grill her pretty hard on tactics, but once she proves herself in that department, they’ll come around.”

 

“I agree,” I said. “Tomorrow’s briefing should provide further insights.” I leaned back in my chair and glanced at the chrono. “What are your plans for this evening, Commander?”

 

Vanto blinked. “My plans, sir?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Uh…” He shifted in his chair. “I don’t think I have any. Why?”

 

“The Museum of Contemporary Culture has a new exhibition I would like to see. I wondered if you would care to join me.”

 

“Well, sir…” Vanto paused and cleared his throat. _His expression holds discomfort, perhaps reluctance._ “That sounds very interesting, but now that I think of it, I’ve still got some things I need to do. Maybe another time?”

 

“Very well,” I said, feeling slightly disappointed. “I shall go alone.”

  


***

 

The Museum of Contemporary Culture was tucked away in a far corner of the financial district, a sleekly modern building with high angles, sharp edges, and walls of polished paneled glass set in geometric patterns. Were it not for the large number of sculptures and statues dotting the courtyard, the museum could easily have been mistaken for a bank or law office.

 

I stood on the curb for a few moments, letting the city sounds fill my ears― pigeons squawking, sirens blaring, airspeeders rushing overhead, subtrams rumbling underneath the pavement. As much as I disliked the hustle and bustle of Coruscant, being on-world was an experience like no other. There was a tangible quality to the experience, a physical connection that even the most sophisticated technology could not reproduce. It was why so many crewmen looked forward to shore leave, and why so many people traveling on ships for the first time complained of feeling separated from the “real world.” In space, you were always surrounded by the enormous, black void, and no matter how much noise you made, it could never put the slightest dent in that great silence.

 

I walked into the courtyard, adjusting my spectacles as I approached the building’s entrance. Because my species was extremely uncommon in this part of the galaxy, my red, glowing eyes always drew a great deal of attention if left uncovered. The sight of an alien in Imperial attire likewise caused a fair amount of gawking, so I’d dispensed with my uniform in favor of a civilian suit.

 

I pushed open the glass door and stepped into the atrium. At this late hour of the afternoon, it was nearly empty. A Rodian guard was stationed at the front desk, gazing sleepily at the security display, but when he saw me approaching, he straightened up and gave a respectful nod, his antennae waving slightly.

 

“Good afternoon, sir,” he said.

 

“And to you,” I replied.

 

“Are you here for the Palano reception?”

 

I shook my head. “I am only visiting the museum.”

 

“Anything of particular interest?”

 

“The Tapani exhibit.”

 

“Ah, yes.” He pulled out a small holopad. “It starts on level four and continues up from there.”

 

“Very good.” I took the holopad from him and then slid a credit chip across the counter.

 

“Thank you very much, sir,” the guard said, taking the chip and stowing it out of sight behind the desk. “If you have any questions, please let me know. We close at six o’clock.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

I made my way across the atrium, pausing to admire the beautifully intricate parquet floor. Thousands of wooden triangles, both light and dark, fitted tightly together to form repeating star patterns, and the sunlight filtering through the windows gave them a warm, golden glow. I wished I could remove my glasses, as the tinted lenses were interfering with the full effect, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with staring and whispers. I decided to keep them on.

 

I reached the stairs and began climbing them slowly, enjoying the quiet ambience usually only found in museums― murmuring voices, faint echoing footsteps, the soft clicking of holorecorders― but when I reached the fourth floor, the noise level became significantly higher. A good portion of Coruscant’s upper echelons were circulating through the main gallery, talking, laughing, and sipping wine out of long-stemmed glasses. No doubt this was the reception the guard had been referring to. A string quartet was playing light, airy music that floated through the air, a perfect backdrop for the empty chatter. I felt slightly irritated. I had been looking forward to having the museum more or less to myself for most of the evening, but now I had to contend with a horde of tipsy socialites who had little appreciation for the splendor and beauty surrounding them.

 

I edged through the crowd, keeping as close to the wall as possible, until I reached the other side of the gallery. Only then did I take out the holopad and open the museum map. As the guard had said, the Tapani exhibit began here and extended up two floors. There would not be enough time to explore the whole collection before closing time, so I decided to focus on just a few areas, and only those that were located farther away from the crowd.

 

Tucking the holopad under my arm, I headed for the fifth floor, the noise of the reception fading away as I climbed the stairs. There were still a few guests wandering about up here, but the majority seemed to be staying on the fourth level. Relieved, I made my way across the main gallery towards one of the smaller enclaves, which contained a number of Barong tapestries and silkscreens. These creations were famous for their incredibly detailed representations of Tapani myth and legend, and I was looking forward to studying them up close.

 

When I stepped through the doorway, however, I was greeted with a display of marble statues and ceramic vases― not a single tapestry in sight. Frowning, I brought out the holopad again and skimmed through the map, looking for something that might explain the discrepancy. I found nothing. Perhaps the exhibit had simply been labeled incorrectly?

 

“You look lost,” someone said.

 

I turned around. A woman was standing in front of me, a woman with a mass of dark red hair pinned up in loose braids. Compared to the other museum goers, who were mostly dressed in elegant gowns and tailored suits, she looked remarkably out of place in a faded blouse, wrinkled trousers, and scuffed boots, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She was nearly as tall as Lieutenant Balik, but while Balik was lean and sinewy, this woman was all curves― round waist, full bust, wide hips. _She looks at me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, head tilted slightly, one hand resting on her hip, the other hanging loose at her side._

 

It took me a moment to find my voice. “Yes,” I said. “I suppose I am.”

 

“Maybe I can help. What are you looking for?” _Her voice is low-pitched and pleasant, with an accent I cannot immediately place. It has a slightly rhythmic quality, with emphasis placed on alternating syllables, almost like waves rising up and down._

 

“I thought the Barong dynasty was down this corridor,” I said, holding out my holopad. “Evidently I was wrong.”

 

She took the pad from me and looked down at the screen. “No, you’re right,” she said after a pause. “The museum must be treating Barong as part of the Mecetti collection.” She gave me a wry smile. “Mecetti _loves_ to remind people that they absorbed House Barong and House Melissus during the Great Sith War, even though it was thousands of years ago. I’ll bet you anything they made the curator lump them all together.”

 

“You seem to know a lot about Tapani history,” I said.

 

“There’s a good reason for that.” Her smile became broader. “I’m from the Tapani sector.”

 

“Really,” I said, my curiosity increasing. “Which province?”

 

“Reena,” she said.

 

“I am not familiar with it.”

 

“Most people aren’t,” she said, handing the pad back to me. “We haven’t done much to get into the history books. No revolutions, no uprisings, no bloody political coups. We do have a rather good export of seafood, though.”

 

I glanced down at the holomap. “According to this, you also have several art pieces featured on the sixth floor.”

 

She laughed. “I’ve already seen them. It’s a pitiful collection. House Barnaba is far better.”

 

“Is that why you are here?” I inquired. “To evaluate the competition?”

 

“Actually, no,” she replied. “I just came here to pass the time.”

 

“Until?”

 

“Until my ship’s finished refueling.”

 

“And then where will you go?”

 

“Reena,” she said. “To see my family.” _Her mouth tightens and her voice goes slightly dark._

 

“You don’t sound very enthused,” I said.

 

“I’m not. It’s an obligatory sort of visit.” She tilted her head again. “Why are _you_ here?”

 

“The Tapani sector is an area of the galaxy I know very little about,” I explained. “I hope to gain some insight and understanding of its history through studying its art.”

 

“I see,” she said. “What have you learned so far?”

 

“That its people seem to be very culturally isolated,” I said. “Most civilizations go through periods of expansion where they draw inspiration from other societies and cultures, but the work showcased here is unusually consistent. I see almost no outside influence, even though the exhibition spans several thousand years.”

 

“There’s a good reason for that, too,” the woman said. “The pieces here represent a very small selection of artists. Whoever put them together wanted to project a very tailored image of Tapani culture. Specifically, the _chentana_ perspective.”

 

“ _Chentana_?” I repeated.

 

“It means noble,” she said. “As I’m sure you know, the Tapani sector is governed by an aristocracy. Nobles control all political and economic aspects of their worlds.” She raised her arm and made a sweeping gesture. “Every one of these pieces are by _chentana_ artists. Commoners aren’t represented at all, even though they make up the majority of the Tapani population. If they were included, you’d see far less consistency and far more variety.”

 

“I see,” I said. I was starting to feel slightly nonplussed. Who was this woman? I’d never seen her before in my life, yet she was treating me with such open, casual friendliness that it seemed as if we’d known each other for years. Was it possible we had met at some function or other and I simply did not remember? Unlikely. Someone so bright and vivacious would be difficult to forget.

 

“So if I wanted to see a broader range of Tapani art,” I said after a pause, “where would I go?”

 

“The best place would be the Tapani Freeworlds Museum on Tallaan,” she said. “But that’s probably a bit out of your way.”

 

“A bit,” I replied. “However, if I ever pass through the Colonies, I will be sure to visit.”

 

“Good,” she said. “In the meantime, let’s find that Barong dynasty.” Without waiting for an answer, she walked past me out into the main gallery.

 

I followed her, still feeling slightly bewildered. How had I let myself get caught up in this situation? It was almost as though I’d been hypnotized.

 

The woman led me into another small alcove, this one filled with the tapestries I’d been searching for, all stretched over freestanding wooden frames or mounted on the walls.

 

“Here we are,” she said. “Is this what you wanted?”

 

“It is,” I answered. “Thank you.”

 

“You're welcome.” She paused. “I guess I'll leave you to it, then.”

 

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to examine the tapestries on my own, but another part of me wanted to keep talking with her. It had been a long time since I’d discussed art with anyone, and even longer since I’d spent time with someone outside my usual circle of Imperial officers and military advisors.

 

“Have you already seen this exhibit?” I asked after a moment.

 

“I haven’t,” she answered. _Her expression and voice hold subtle anticipation._

 

“In that case, perhaps you would like to see it with me.”

 

“I think I would.” _Her facial heat increases and her lips curve slightly upward, indicating both shyness and pleasure._ She pointed to a large silkscreen standing opposite us. “Let’s start over here.”

 

We began walking slowly around the room, our footsteps echoing slightly on the wooden tiles, pausing every few meters to discuss a different piece. My companion had many insights to share, particularly when it came to mythology. She could not only name every Tapani god and goddess represented in each piece, but also knew the names of their _chakana_ , or commoner, counterparts. Occasionally she pulled out her own holopad to look up a specific _chakana_ artist, and to show discrepancies between the noble depiction of the myth and the common version.

 

At first I listened closely to her words, but gradually I started paying more attention to the sound of her voice, the movement of her hands, the way her brow crinkled when she tried to remember a detail. I wasn’t often attracted to humans, but this one was really quite lovely. _Her eyes are large, dark, and beautiful, and they crackle with both intelligence and sharp humor.  Her nose is small, upturned, and covered with brown freckles. Her red hair is thick, smooth, and has an almost coppery sheen, especially when it catches the light. There are firm muscles in her upper arms, and her skin, while pale in color, is deeply tanned, indicating she spends much of her time outdoors._ I wondered what she did for a living. Such an outgoing, confident personality suggested that she was used to taking charge, and with that bubbling curiosity…. a teacher? Perhaps at the university level? I considered asking her, but she didn’t seem remotely interested in discussing anything other than art and history. I decided not to pry into her personal life, at least for the moment.

 

“This division between the two classes,” I said at last, after we’d gone round nearly the entire room. “It goes back many thousands of years?”

 

“Ever since the beginning of the Tapani era,” she answered.

 

“Has no one ever tried to mend the divide?”

 

She slowly shook her head. “There have been a few revolutionaries― artists and religious leaders mostly― who’ve spoken out against class division. But they never made much progress.”

 

“Why not?”

 

She shrugged. _A faint line appears between her eyebrows, indicating doubt._ “We’re a culture rooted in tradition,” she answered. “Most of the commoners I know don’t seem to mind the way things are. They say we shouldn’t try to change things that aren’t broken.”

 

“Do you agree?”

 

 _Her frown becomes deeper, suggesting that she finds the question troubling._ “I don’t know,” she said. “Sometimes I think they’re right. If they’re happy, who am I to say they shouldn’t be? But sometimes I wonder if they know what they’re missing. What they could become, if given the opportunity.”

 

“You are noble,” I said in sudden realization. Her poise, her utter confidence, her way of speaking… it all made sense now.

 

“In name only,” she said. _She smiles, but her eyes hold a hint of sadness._ “I lost my status a long time ago.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I went against tradition,” she answered. “And my family wasn’t happy about it.”

 

“I assume that is why you are not eager to return home.”

 

“You assume correctly.” _She sighs and folds her arms across her chest, indicating discomfort, perhaps pain._ “Can we talk about something else? If you don’t mind.”

 

“Not at all,” I said, suddenly afraid that I’d made her uncomfortable. “I am sorry if I overstepped.”

 

“You didn’t,” she said. “I’d just like a change of subject.”

 

“Of course,” I said. “Is there another exhibit you would like to see?”

 

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d care to join me for a drink,” she said. “There’s a restaurant on the top floor. We could see if it’s still open.”

 

I was suddenly nervous. Walking around a museum was one thing, but drinks on a rooftop bar was quite another, especially with someone I’d only just met. I checked the chrono on my wrist, buying myself a few seconds to think it over. I was not due back to the _Chimaera_ at any particular time, although if I stayed much longer, I would need to let Vanto know I would be returning later than expected. He would worry otherwise.

 

“I have to leave in about an hour,” the woman said, as if sensing my hesitation. “So you’d only have to put up with me until then.”

 

I relaxed slightly. An hour wasn’t very long, and besides, I would probably never see her again. What had I to lose, really?

 

“I would be delighted,” I said after a moment.

 

“Great,” she said. _Her eyes crinkle up at the corners as she smiles, her facial heat increasing again._ “Let’s go.”

 

We walked out of the enclave and towards the staircase. As we began climbing the broad marble steps, I suddenly realized that I’d neglected to ask a very important question.

 

“What is your name?” I inquired.

 

The woman blinked, and then laughed. “I guess I never did mention that, did I?” she said. “I’m Tessa.”

 

“A pleasure to meet you,” I said. “I am Thrawn.”

 

“Thrawn,” she repeated. “Nice to meet you as well.”

 

We passed the sixth floor, then the seventh, the sounds of the reception growing fainter with every step. When we reached the eighth and final floor, we found it completely deserted. The lights were out, the empty tables cast in shadow.

 

“It does not appear to be open,” I said.

 

“I guess not,” Tessa answered.

 

“Have you another suggestion?”

 

“I do.” She glanced sideways at me. “It’s a bit risky, though.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

 _Her mouth unfolds in a grin, her dark eyes sparkling with humor._ “I’m sure you’ve noticed there’s a party going on downstairs,” she said.

 

“I have indeed.”

 

“How would you feel about masquerading as a guest?”

 

I smiled. “You propose subterfuge? That is risky indeed.”

 

“Do you have a better idea?”

 

“I do not.” I glanced around. “How shall we proceed?”

 

“You should probably be the one to infiltrate,” Tessa said, gesturing down at her rumpled clothes. “I can’t exactly pass for a Coruscanti socialite.”

 

“And I can?”

 

“Absolutely. You look quite dashing.”

 

In spite of myself, I felt rather flattered. My suit was not a particularly fashionable one (the _Chimaera_ ’s fabricator had only a few designs in its databank) but it was fitted, made of dark blue gaberwool, with brass buttons, a high collar, and a jacket that was broad in the shoulders but slightly tapered at the waist. I was profoundly thankful I’d decided to wear the suit tonight instead of my Admiral’s uniform. I had no idea what my companion’s views on the Empire might be, and for the moment, I had no desire to find out.

 

“Very well,” I said. “Follow me.”

 

She did so, keeping well behind me as I started back down the stairs. When we reached the fifth floor, I leaned over the balcony to get a closer look at the activity below. The party appeared to be in full swing. Waiters circulated through the crowd, offering trays of food and wine to guests, while the string quartet continued playing its light, frothy repertoire.

 

I turned back to Tessa. “Wait here,” I said. “I shall return shortly.”

 

“All right,” she said. _Her body stance suggests anticipation, perhaps eagerness, and her eyes are twinkling._ “Good luck.”

 

I descended the last flight of steps and slipped into the crowd, brushing past silken hems and wool-clad shoulders. No one took any notice of me― they were too wrapped up in their own idle conversations. Within moments, I was able to lift two long-stemmed glasses off a passing waiter’s tray, turn round, and carry them back through the crowd, one in each hand.

 

I found Tessa waiting where I had left her, half-concealed behind a column at the top of the stairs. She stepped out as I approached.

 

“Well done,” she said. “They didn’t suspect a thing.”

 

“Why would they?” I said, handing her a glass. “As you said, I am dressed for the part.”

 

“True, but I’m still impressed,” she said, taking it from me. “What shall we drink to?”

 

I paused for a moment to think. “To chance encounters,” I said. “And new possibilities.”

 

“I like that,” she said, and raised her glass towards me. “To possibilities.”

 

We each took a sip, gazing at each other over the rims. The wine was a deep red, full-bodied and slightly earthy. I swirled it around in my mouth for a moment, then swallowed.

 

“It’s quite nice,” Tessa said. “Do you like it?”

 

I nodded. “Alderaanian, most likely.”

 

“Expensive,” she said. “It must be a special occasion.”

 

“From what I observed, I believe it is a wedding reception,” I said.

 

“Hmm.” _She leans over the balcony, glass in hand, presumably to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds._ “I don’t think I would ever get married in a museum.”

 

“Why not?” I asked, looking around at the white marble columns and parquet floor. “It is beautiful.”

 

“Beautiful, yes, but stuffy. I would want to be outside.”

 

“Really,” I said, pleased that one of my guesses about her had been accurate. She liked being out of doors. “Where?”

 

“On a beach, where I can hear waves.”

 

“You like the ocean?”

 

“I do,” she said. “I grew up near the sea. Reena is an ocean world.”

 

“It sounds lovely.”

 

“It is,” she said. “It’s very cold, though. And damp. It rains nearly every day.”

 

“Not a very good place for a wedding, then.”

 

“Not really. I was picturing more of a tropical beach.”

 

“Much better,” I said, wondering how we’d gotten on this topic of conversation. Her mind seemed to hop about with alarming speed― it was taking all of my concentration just to keep pace with her― but I was rather enjoying the verbal sparring. It was nice to meet a human mind nearly as nimble as my own. With most, I had to slow my train of thought to an almost glacial pace so as not to lose them completely, which made interactions both frustrating and tedious.

 

“Are you married, Thrawn?” Tessa asked after a pause.

 

The candidness of her question made me smile. “I was once,” I answered. “I am no longer.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” _Her tone is light, almost playful, and the corners of her mouth quiver slightly._

 

“Your sympathy is touching,” I said, amused, “but not very convincing.”

 

“Am I that transparent?”

 

“You are to me.”

 

“I never was a good liar,” she said. _Her eyes suddenly travel downward, coming to rest in the vicinity of my belt buckle._ “One of my many failings as a noble.”

 

“But not as a person,” I said. “Honesty is an admirable trait.”

 

“I’m glad you think so.” _Her eyes remain focused on my waist._ “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

 

“What?” I asked, confused.

 

“Your comm is buzzing.”

 

“Ah.” Feeling foolish, I reached down and unhooked the comlink from my belt. It was Vanto.

 

“Please excuse me,” I said. “I must take this.”

 

She nodded. I set my wine on the ledge of the balcony and walked swiftly into the nearest empty room, a chamber full of stone tablets and tattered scrolls. When I was certain that Tessa could no longer see or hear me, I turned the comlink on.

 

“Commander,” I said, trying not to sound irritated. “What is it?”

 

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Vanto said. _His voice is both alert and tense._ “The Emperor’s requesting your presence at the palace.”

 

My heart sank. “When?”

 

“Right away.”

 

I repressed a sigh. “Very well. I shall report to the palace as soon as possible.”

 

“Yes, sir. I’ll send word immediately.” He clicked off.

 

I stood there for a long moment, comlink still in hand, annoyance coursing through me. Of all the times for Palpatine to issue a summons… why couldn’t he have waited until tomorrow? It was still two days before the _Chimaera_ left for the Kathol sector. Why the sudden rush? Unless it had nothing to do with the Kathol mission. The Emperor never shared any details over comlink. He preferred to brief me in person to prevent any communications being intercepted, so until I was physically standing in the throne room, staring up at that sunken-eyed despot, I would know nothing more.

 

I hooked the comlink back onto my belt and walked slowly back out into the main gallery. Tessa was leaning over the balcony, watching the party, one hip jutting out slightly. She looked just as lovely from behind as she did from the front. I sighed. Perhaps it was for the best that I’d been called away. I didn’t have much time for romance― the demands of my job were simply too great. Besides, she might feel differently about me once she found out what I did for a living. I didn’t know much about the Tapani sector, but I had an idea that an aristocracy probably wasn’t thrilled about an all-powerful Empire taking control of the galaxy.

 

Tessa must have sensed my presence, because she suddenly glanced over her shoulder and saw me standing there. She straightened up and came towards me, but her smile faded when she saw my face.

 

“You don’t look happy,” she said. “Bad news?”

 

“Of a sort,” I replied. “My employer has just contacted me.”

 

“And now you have to leave?”

 

“I’m afraid so.”

 

“I see,” she said. _Her tone is even, her expression calm, but her body language tells another story― slumped shoulders, increased facial heat, lips pressed tightly together. She is intensely disappointed, even sorrowful, but trying her best to hide her true feelings._

 

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” Tessa said after a pause. “I’ve had fun.”

 

“So have I. Good luck on your visit home.”

 

“Thanks.” _She smiles, but it is a superficial smile, one that does not extend to her eyes_. “And who knows? Maybe we’ll cross paths again someday.”

 

“Perhaps,” I said. “But if we do not, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

 

“Likewise,” she said, and then clasped both her hands together, extending them outward towards me. “ _Manu ata hai_.”

 

“Farewell,” I said, bowing in return. Leaving my wine sitting on the balcony ledge, I turned and began walking towards the staircase. I resisted the urge to look back. She had probably already wandered off in search of another exhibit, or started a new conversation with some passing stranger.

 

I reached the bottom of the stairs, and was about to walk back into the chattering crowd when I felt a curious sensation. A sudden leap, almost like an electrical jolt, surged through my stomach, and I stopped in mid-step, gripping the bannister tightly, my breath catching in my chest. Without warning, a bright light exploded in my mind, a flash of clarity so intense it nearly blinded me. _Do not lose her._

 

I turned and walked quickly back upstairs, hoping against hope that she hadn’t wandered too far. When I reached the top, I stopped and looked around. In a few moments I spotted the red hair, just visible behind a marble statue. I moved towards her, boots clacking on the parquet floor, heart pounding against my ribs.

 

“Tessa,” I said, the word coming out in a burst.

 

_She turns around. When she sees me, her body stance shifts into one of surprise and happiness, her lips curving upward in a radiant smile._

 

“You’re back,” she said. “Did something change?”

 

“No,” I said. “I am still needed elsewhere. But I wanted to ask… ” I paused, gathering my courage. “May I borrow your holopad for a moment?”

 

Wordlessly she handed it to me. I took it, quickly entered a string of digits into the databank, and then gave it back to her.

 

“That is the number for my personal comlink,” I said. “If you are ever on Coruscant again…”

 

“I’ll be sure to give you a call,” she said. _Her facial heat increases significantly, but this time, it is not due to emotional upset._ “Would you like mine as well?”

 

“If you are willing to share it,” I replied.

 

Smiling, she held out her hand. I placed my comlink into her palm, and for a few moments there was silence as she entered the number. Then she handed it back to me, cheeks still flushed with pleasure.

 

“Well,” she said. “Thank you. Thank you for giving this to me.”

 

“You are welcome,” I said. “And now, I really must go.”

 

“All right,” she said. “Goodnight, Thrawn.”

 

“Goodnight, Tessa.”

 

Dusk was falling as I walked across the museum courtyard. The landspeeder was waiting at the end of the block, and I could see Ensign Vondas sitting in the driver’s seat, leaning back against the headrest, his cap pulled down slightly over his eyes. It had been a good hour and a half since I’d left him there. He was probably using the time to catch up on some rest.

 

I opened the speeder door and Vondas jerked awake. _He straightens up, hastily adjusting his cap, clearly embarrassed at being caught dozing._

 

“Where to, sir?” he asked.

 

“The Imperial Palace,” I answered. “As quickly as you can.”


	3. The Sea and the Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa returns home for a visit before she leaves for Kathol, and reflects on her world’s long history of division between nobles and commoners.

My first thought when I saw my mother was how old she was looking. Her hair, once pure red like mine, was now completely grey, and she was leaning heavily on a stout walking stick. Kiro, the family’s manservant, was holding an umbrella over her head, shielding her from the rain. He also looked somewhat diminished, but that was to be expected. I didn’t know exactly how old he was, but he’d been working for the Yuri family as long as I could remember.

 

I descended the ramp of the freighter and walked towards them, flinching as the cold raindrops hit my face. Spring was particularly wet time of year on Reena, and the heavy rainfall caused its ocean levels to rise significantly. Flooding was a constant danger, and on the flight in I’d seen several farmers building barricades around their fields with  _ umbazi _ — sandbags. A storm must be imminent, though I’d heard no mention of it from the ship’s captain or crew. They probably didn’t want to worry anyone, especially the off-worlders.

 

Mama was standing very straight and tall as I approached, but even from this distance I could tell she was in pain. Very few people knew she suffered from chronic arthritis, and that walking or standing, even for short periods, could be agonizing. It was a fact she did her best to conceal, not only because of pride, but because the last thing she wanted was for the local  _ chentana _ to discover she was ailing. Being married to a member of the Tapani Great Council, she had to maintain a good reputation among the nobility. If another family got wind of Mama’s condition, it would be the perfect excuse to spread rumors that Viviana Yuri was getting on in years, and perhaps her husband should consider relinquishing his seat so he could devote more time to his family. Fat chance of that, I thought sourly. Baba prized his position on the Great Council more than anything or anyone. It would take more than gossip to make him give it up.

 

My gaze shifted to Kiro, who was also standing quite straight, one hand behind his back and the other holding the umbrella over Mama’s head. He smiled when he saw me, but said nothing. As  _ chakana _ , he was only allowed to speak if my mother or I addressed him directly. Until then, he would remain silent.

 

I flashed back to Thrawn, the handsome Pantoran I’d met at the museum last night. He’d expressed such interest in my culture, such curiosity about the divide between noble and commoner, that I genuinely wanted to explain it to him— properly, accurately, as I wished someone had explained it to me as a child. Yet the more I spoke, the more inadequate my words seemed to become. The Tapani class system wasn’t an easy concept for outsiders to grasp, mainly because on the surface, there was hardly any difference between the nobility and the  _ chakana _ , or common people. The majority of us were human with pale or light brown skin, dark eyes, and dark hair. We were all descended from Core world colonists that settled the Tapani sector thousands of years ago. And although each planet in the sector had its own unique dialects and local slang, we all spoke the Tapani language. But despite our similarities, divisions ran deep, rooted in generations of tradition and prejudice.  _ Chentana _ sneered at the commoners’ quaint, country ways, their rough, tanned skin, and their hedonistic devotion to the sea.  _ Chakana _ made fun of the nobles’ snobbery, their pasty complexions, and obsession with material things. Yet each class provided things the other needed. Commoners worked as farmers, sailors, servants, and shopkeepers, supplying food, clothing, and other goods to the nobility. Nobles ruled the sector, doing everything from negotiating trade agreements to fostering political alliances between the seven Tapani houses. It was an agreeable balance, and neither class had much incentive or desire to change it. Commoners lived, worked, and went to school in their own communities, and nobles did the same. It was easier that way, Kiro explained. More comfortable for everyone.

 

Mud squelched underneath my feet as I walked across the docking bay, the greenish brown sludge gurgling and sucking at the soles of my shoes. By the time I reached Mama and Kiro, my stockings were thoroughly soaked. I cursed silently. I’d packed in such a hurry that I’d forgotten the most basic fact about Reena― its dampness pervaded everything. Buildings and ships were built to withstand years of exposure to the planet’s ocean air and rain, and any that weren’t soon dissolved into piles of rusted metal, warped and rotten wood, or crumbling stone. Similarly, anyone who failed to dress adequately for the weather quickly learned that waterproof boots could mean the difference between a good day and a miserable one. Unfortunately, my own boots were hundreds of light years away, buried in some crate back at the house on Cirrus, and I wouldn’t see them again until I met up with Shell at Tralee Base. Unless I wanted to endure two days of cold, wet feet, I would have to buy a pair in town.

 

Doing my best to ignore the cold, slimy mud oozing into my shoes, I stopped in front of my mother and curtsied, right hand clasped over my heart. “ _ Baka jai wenatan _ , Mama,” I said, using the formal Tapani greeting.

 

“ _ Chi ninka _ ,” she replied, handing her walking stick to Kiro. She reached out and gave me her usual light, patting hug, and I could feel how skinny she’d gotten. “Did you get my message about the funeral?”

 

“I did.” I released her and stepped back. “Tomorrow night, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, at the temple.” 

 

Apparently Great Aunt Maeve’s time had been closer than Mama thought. She passed away mere hours after I’d booked passage home, and as terrible as it might sound, I was grateful it happened before I arrived. I hadn’t been looking forward to making conversation with yet another dying relative that I barely remembered.

 

Mama was looking me up and down, taking in my muddy shoes, smudged face, and tangled braids. “What have you done to your hair?” she asked, frowning.

 

Automatically, I lifted a hand to my head. “Nothing. Why?”

 

“It looks dried out. Are you brushing it enough?”

 

“Every morning and every night.”

 

Her frown deepened. “Well, maybe you should use more hackseed oil. I’ll pick you up a bottle tomorrow. And don’t bother with that,” she added, as I hitched my bag further up my shoulder. “Kiro can carry your things.”

 

“Kiro is older and more tired than either of us,” I said, turning to the old man with a smile. “ _ Jamata hai _ , my friend. How are you?”

 

“I am well, my lady,” he said, bowing slightly. His  _ chakana _ accent was somewhat muted, but I knew it would return in full force once my mother wasn’t around. “And you?”

 

“Just fine. Let’s get a cart for the bags, okay? They’re very heavy.”

 

“It is no trouble,” he said, glancing at my mother.

 

“I insist.” I took the walking stick and the umbrella out of his hands and turned back to Mama. “We’re going to get a cart,” I told her. “It’ll just take a second. Hold these, would you?”

 

Silently she took the items from me, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. She didn’t like her daughter doing what she considered to be servant work, which was one of the reasons I did it as much as possible.

 

Kiro and I walked towards the docking bay entrance where the hover carts were kept, maintaining a respectful distance apart, but as soon as we were out of my mother’s sight, I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“May I give you a hug now?” I asked.

 

His wrinkled, tanned face split into a grin. “Yes,  _ okanita _ . You may.”

 

I put my arms around him, breathing in the familiar smell of leather and salty brine, and patted his back gently. 

 

“It’s so good to see you,” I said after letting go. “How’s Yixa?”

 

Kiro’s smile became even wider. “Very good. She is having a baby soon.”

 

“ _ Hai nuchi jai _ ,” I exclaimed, and clasped both my hands around his, the Tapani gesture of congratulations. “I have to see her before I go.”

 

“Yes, you must,” he said. “Come to the cottage tomorrow at noon. We can have lunch.”

 

“I’ll be there.”

 

“She will be so excited,” he said, squeezing my hands. “She misses you.”

 

“I miss her, too.” Kiro’s daughter had been my best friend since I was seven years old, and the closest thing I’d ever had to a sister. It was Yixa who pushed me to do things I never dared to do on my own— skip school, stay out all night, get drunk, go down to the docks and flirt with the young sailors coming into port. It was because of her I'd summoned the courage to defy my parents’ wishes and attend college off-world. She encouraged me to follow my own path, something very few  _ chentana _ chose to do, and I would forever be grateful for it.

 

“We should return,” Kiro said, glancing back over his shoulder. “Your mother is waiting.”

 

“Of course,” I said, releasing his hands. “Let’s grab that cart. Did you hear I’m going to Kathol?”

 

“I did not,” he exclaimed. “Very far. How long will you be there?”

 

“Over a year.”

 

“Studying planets?”

 

“Something like that,” I said, pulling a cart from the rack. Together we pushed it back inside the docking bay. My mother was standing where we had left her, leaning on her stick and looking very cross.

 

Once Kiro and I had loaded the bags on the cart, the three of us set off across the spaceport. Mama kept up a steady stream of chatter as we walked, mostly about Great Aunt Maeve’s funeral— how many people were coming, which shonai would be presiding, how much trouble she’d had finding a caterer on short notice. I tuned out most of what she was saying and just focused on the sights and smells of my childhood. Gulls flew overhead, squawking and screaming. The sharp salty wind whipped at my hair, doing its best to unwind the braids. The smell of frying  _ kaloki _ , a dense yet delicate pastry stuffed with smoked fish, wafted across the street from a vendor’s stand, making my mouth water.

 

The family landspeeder was parked just outside the spaceport entrance, its red hull wet and shining in the rain. Kiro opened the passenger door for my mother. Slowly she eased herself inside, wincing as she slid across the seat. 

 

After she was settled, I got in after her, taking care not to scuff the leather interior with my wet and muddy shoes. Kiro shut the door behind me and then began loading my bags into the speeder’s storage compartment.

 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Mama said after a moment.

 

“Do what?” I asked innocently.

 

“You know very well what. It is not proper to speak to Kiro in such an informal manner, or help him with the bags. It makes him uncomfortable.”

 

In Tapani culture, people of different classes rarely socialized, and whenever someone crossed over the line, it caused a certain amount of grumbling and gossip on both sides. Growing up, I was always getting into trouble by making friends with commoners, being too familiar with the servants, and generally defying the social norms my parents had set down. Sometimes I did it just to annoy them, but other times I simply forgot, and being friends with Yixa made it even harder to remember. Another reason I was grateful to her.

 

“The only one who’s uncomfortable is you,” I said to my mother. “Kiro is my friend and I’ll speak to him how I please.”

 

She let out her breath in a huff. “You’d best not do it when your father’s around,” she said.

 

“Honestly, Kiro’s been more of a father to me than he ever was.”

 

“Shame on you,” she said, her voice tight. “What would Baba say if he could hear you right now?”

 

I sat back against the cold leather seat and glared out the window at the rain, which was starting to fall more heavily. “He’d say I’m an ungrateful, selfish child who’s forgotten her place in this world.”

 

“And he would be absolutely right.”

 

There was a time when her words would have stung, but over the years I’d learned that there was no real bite behind them. Mama loved to scold and criticize, but she hardly ever enforced the rules she set down, or disciplined us if we broke them. That was my father’s responsibility, and he carried it out with entirely too much zeal.

 

Kiro returned from putting the cart back, and we both fell silent as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “To the manor, my lady?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” Mama answered.

 

“Very good, ma’am.” He started up the speeder and backed it out of the narrow parking stall. Slowly we trundled down the narrow street back out to the main thoroughfare, rain continuing to splatter against the windows.

 

Reena City was laid out in a haphazard, crooked web, very different from the rest of the surrounding towns and villages, which were mostly set in grid patterns. Our planet had been settled thousands of years ago by colonists that didn’t know the first thing about architecture or city planning. They built their capital on one small, narrow point of land, apparently not anticipating that its proximity to a large ocean would bring a huge amount of trade and travel through its gates. As a result, over the centuries the city sprawled outward and upward in vast, increasingly large spirals, layer upon layer of stone and brick, to accommodate the hundreds of merchants, sailors, scholars, and other mercenaries that decided to make Reena their home.

 

“How long will you be gone?” Mama asked, breaking into my thoughts.

 

“Eighteen months,” I answered.

 

“Are they holding your job for you?”

 

“Yes. My boss has been very supportive.”

 

“That’s good,” she said vaguely, and then lapsed into silence again.

 

Our house was located in the heart of the Knells, a hilly, rocky area set far above the city looking down on Bitchok Bay. My great grandfather had built his home in traditional Reenan style— elevated on stout wooden posts with a gently curving roof that flared out dramatically at the edges. Over the years, the soggy, muddy ground had gradually eaten away at the posts, so by the time my father inherited the house it was in danger of collapsing entirely. In typical stubborn fashion, Baba had rejected the idea of using a sturdier material like stone to replace the posts, and had new wooden ones installed. As Kiro steered the landspeeder up the long, winding drive, I observed that the house had a slight lilt, and when we pulled into the driveway, I could see that the posts were already starting to rot. Another twenty years and the house would be sinking into the earth yet again.

 

I opened the landspeeder door and climbed out, pulling my hood up to protect against the rain. As I waited for Kiro and Mama, I gazed up at the house. Except for the posts, Yuri Manor looked the same as it had when I was here six years ago. Dark grey stones made up the exterior. Blackwood trim lined all windows and doors. Glazed red tiles covered the roof, an homage to the Yuri hair color, which was unique among Reena’s noble families. White stone paved the front walk and the archway over the door. It was a beautiful house, one meant for a large family. Instead, it was just the four of us— Mama, Baba, Tam, and I. And then Tam passed away, making an already empty house feel even emptier.

 

“Baba should be home in about an hour,” Mama said as she came up behind me. “He’s been terribly busy. The Calipsans are pushing the trade route issue again.”

 

“Oh?” I said, trying to sound interested. For over fifty years my father had been sitting on the Tapani Great Council, struggling to make Reena’s voice heard above the clamor of the six larger, more powerful noble houses, as well as the other families of House Reena, all of whom had their own interests to protect. It was an enormous responsibility, one that claimed all of his attention while we were growing up. As a teenager, I used to be fascinated by the political talk that dominated family discussions, but my enthusiasm for the subject waned as I got older.

 

“It’s just posturing,” Mama said, starting towards the house, her walking stick thudding against the paving stones. “They’re never going to get the measure passed, but they’re doing everything they can to delay a vote anyway, just out of spite. Thanks to them, Baba’s had to stay at the embassy for the past week. This is the first time he’s been home since it started.”

 

“So he’ll be in a great mood when he gets here,” I said dryly.

 

Kiro followed close behind us, lugging the heavy bags as best he could, but I resisted the urge to help, knowing it would just annoy Mama even more. At last, we reached the front porch and Kiro set the bags down on the smooth wooden boards.

 

“Thank you, Kiro,” Mama said without looking at him. “That will be all for tonight.”

 

“Yes, my lady,” he said, bowing. 

 

As Mama rummaged through her pockets looking for the house key, Kiro gave me a broad wink, which I returned, and went down the steps, his boots squelching in the mud. He was going home now, to his small cottage in the woods behind our house, where Yixa was waiting for him. I felt a pang of loneliness imagining the two of them seated at the simple wooden table, drinking hot tea, talking about everything and nothing. I comforted myself with the thought that I would be seeing both of them tomorrow. I couldn’t quite imagine Yixa being pregnant. She’d always talked about having a baby, but now that it was finally happening, it was hard for me to believe.

 

Mama finally found the key and unlocked the front door. “Your room’s all ready, so you can put the bags up there,” she said, pushing it open and stepping through. “I’m going to check on dinner.”

 

I followed her over the threshold and immediately smelled a rich, savory aroma wafting through the air. My stomach growled. “Is Una cooking tonight?” I asked.

 

“Yes,” she answered, taking off her wrap and hanging it up. “I think she’s making  _ hibatash. _ ”

 

“I should go say hello.”

 

“No, you should go up to your room and unpack,” she said briskly. “There’s a lot of dresses hanging up in the closet. You should take a few with you. Assuming they still fit, of course.”

 

“I have no use for dresses where I’m going,” I said, ignoring the slight about my size. “They’d just take up space.”

 

“They’re taking up space here,” she said impatiently. “Besides, you’ll need something to wear to the funeral. Go through them and I’ll donate whatever doesn’t fit anymore. And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

 

She stumped off into the kitchen. I heard a murmur of voices and the clatter of a pot lid being lifted and set down. I glanced around, trying to see if anything on the inside of the house had changed, but everything looked the same. Immediately on my right was the parlor where my father liked to hold court when colleagues and guests came to call. His study was next door, giving him easy access to his library if he needed to look something up during a particularly fierce debate. There was nothing Baba liked better than winning an argument.

 

Directly ahead of me was the staircase that led to the second and third floors. Past the stairs, the hallway continued on until it reached the dining room. Beyond that was the back porch, where a set of wooden steps led down to the rear of the property. As a child, I’d spent many afternoons wandering the hilly fields and steep cliffs behind our house, pretending to be an explorer. It was during one of those expeditions that I met Yixa.

 

I brought my bags inside one by one, wishing I’d packed lighter. Because IST had been so vague about details, it was difficult to know what to bring, and I’d ended up taking most of my clothes, trying to cover all possible weather conditions. Maybe I actually should take a couple dresses with me, I reflected. You never knew when you might need one. If I’d been wearing a dress last night instead of my scruffy traveling clothes, I might have gotten more than just Thrawn’s number. 

 

My mind wandered briefly back to last night, remembering that tall, slender frame and chiseled features. Such a beautiful man, with an even more beautiful voice― smooth and liquid, like flowing water. What a pity he’d been called into work. At least I had a way to contact him, although I wasn’t sure if I actually would. The evening had been so perfect that it seemed too good to be true. Which, I reflected, it probably was. With my track record, there was almost certainly something wrong with him. He could be a smuggler, a swindler, an art thief― or worst of all, a politician. Better to keep our encounter a pleasant memory, one I could always look upon with fondness rather than regret.

 

With difficulty, I took off my waterlogged shoes and stockings and set them down on the low shelf next to the door. Then I grabbed the towel hanging on a hook next to the door, and carefully wiped my bare feet. Mama would have a fit if she saw even a dot of mud on the carpet.

 

The wooden steps groaned as I climbed up the narrow staircase, balancing one bag on my shoulder and another against my hip, trying not to hit any of the pictures mounted on the wall. My bedroom was on the second floor, in the east wing of the house. I reached the door and slowly pushed it open, wondering if anything had changed in here.

 

Nothing had. My bed was made up with the same patchwork quilt. Star maps and music posters covered the walls. My stuffed animals and dolls sat in a row on the window seat, and the model of the Tapani sector I’d made when I was ten was still hanging above my desk, painted clay planets dangling from its strings.

 

The closet door was open, revealing the rack of dresses my mother wanted me to take. I set my bags down and began to rifle through them, recalling the events and social occasions associated with each one. Most were unpleasant, but the gowns themselves weren’t bad. They were all fairly classic styles with scooped necklines, flared skirts, and short sleeves. Most had been made here on Reena by  _ chakana _ tailors and were the soft, muted colors of the sea— blue, grey, green, white. A few had been purchased during family visits to Procopia, the capital planet, when the latest fashions had caught my mother’s eye. I liked those less since they were made of cheaper material, and compared to the sturdy craftsmanship of the Reenan dresses, seemed almost gaudy. But the colors were brighter— deep purple, gold, silver, and red, my favorite.

 

I pulled out a few dresses and tossed them on the bed, hoping that some of them still fit. I didn’t want to give my mother the satisfaction of knowing I’d outgrown them. My metabolism had slowed as I’d gotten older, and it was becoming harder to keep weight off, especially around my hips and thighs. Most of the time it didn’t bother me, but as usual, being at home was rapidly draining my self-confidence.

 

To my dismay, all of the dresses were too small. Some were too tight around the arms and shoulders, while others strained across my breasts, leaving gaps between the buttons. A few of them wouldn’t even pull down past my hips. I felt shame welling up inside me, but I pushed it down. It didn’t matter how much weight I gained or lost. My mother would still manage to find something to criticize, whether it was my rough skin, my dried out hair, or my taste in friends.

 

As if on cue, I heard her calling from downstairs. “Tessa! Your father’s home.”

 

A hard knot formed in my stomach. “Be right down,” I called, and shoved the pile of dresses back inside the closet.

 

I came into the kitchen to see my father standing by the back door, drying his hair with a towel. I paused in the doorway, relishing the fact that I’d seen him before he’d seen me. It gave me a slight edge in the battle that was sure to come.

 

Thaddeus Yuri was turning seventy-five this autumn, but he didn’t look a day older than sixty. His hair had finally gone pure white, but he still had a lot of it left, and his movements were quick and crisp. A little pool of water had gathered underneath him, and his boots were caked with black mud. He must have walked home. He often did so, especially after being cooped up in an embassy suite on Procopia for days on end. Like me, he loved being outside, walking along the sea cliffs, breathing in the cold, damp air. It was one of very few things we had in common.

 

Mama was seated at one end of the large kitchen table, filling small glass vials with sand. Whenever a member of House Reena passed away, it was traditional to mark the grave with sand as an homage to the colonists that set foot on Reena’s beaches thousands of years ago. Tomorrow night, the vials would be handed out to each Yuri family member, and once the eulogy had been given, everyone would pour the contents into Aunt Maeve’s coffin. Years ago, I’d been pleasantly surprised to discover that commoners did the same thing at funerals, only instead of sand, they used salt.

 

Una, the cook, was bent over the stove, her round face sweaty from the heat. Like Kiro, she’d been with our family since I was a child, although I liked her less. She was always scolding and ordering us out of the kitchen, and whenever she caught Tam or I doing something we shouldn’t be, she always told our mother. But she was the best cook in Reena City, and whenever my parents brought unexpected guests home for dinner, she rose to the occasion magnificently.

 

As Baba finished drying off, he looked across the room and saw me standing there. There were more wrinkles and drooping folds in his face and neck than I remembered from last time, but his black eyes were still as sharp as ever.

 

“Baba,” I said, not even attempting to go in for a hug. “Long time.”

 

“Too long,” he agreed, hanging the towel back on its hook by the door. “Your mother worries.”

 

“She shouldn’t. I’m doing well.” I paused. “Calipsans making trouble again, I hear.”

 

“Same as always,” he said, bending down to take off his boots. “That damned Lord Bryn is determined to make a stand. I would have stayed longer, but your mother insisted I come home for Maeve’s funeral.”

 

“And for your daughter’s visit,” Mama reminded him, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

 

“And that,” he agreed. “Una, would you bring me my slippers, please? I don’t want to get my socks wet.”

 

“Right away, sir,” Una said, setting down her spoon and hurrying into the next room. She returned a moment later with the slippers, knelt down, and put them on his feet.

 

“Thank you,” Baba said. “Is that  _ hibatash _ I smell?”

 

“Yes, sir,” she said, heaving herself back up. “It’ll be ready in about five minutes.”

 

“Sit down, Thad,” Mama said. “You must be exhausted. You too, Tessalyn. Help me with these. I’ve still got over fifty to do.”

 

I walked over, sat down in the chair on her left, and began scooping sand into the empty vials. Baba shuffled over to the table and, in a rare show of affection, gave my mother a kiss on the cheek. 

 

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

 

“Better since I took my pills.”

 

“That’s good,” he said, sitting down on her right. “And you?” he asked me. “How was the trip?”

 

“Good,” I said. “We refueled at Coruscant, so I was able to get out and walk around for a few hours. There’s a new exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Culture featuring Tapani art that was pretty interesting.” I didn’t mention Thrawn. My mother would recoil at the idea of me wandering around a museum with a strange man, especially an alien one.

 

“Have they finished remodeling the senate building?” Baba asked.

 

Would he  _ ever _ be interested in something other than politics? “I don’t know,” I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “I didn’t make it over there.”

 

“From what I hear, it’s going to be spectacular,” he said. “New windows and doors for all chambers, a full cafeteria, and a dozen new shuttle bays. Rumor has it that they’re even putting in a gymnasium.”

 

“What, no golden toilet seats?”

 

“Don’t be fresh,” Mama said. “Did you look at the dresses like I asked?”

 

I repressed a sigh. “Yes, Mama.”

 

“And? Do they fit?”

 

“I haven’t tried them on yet,” I lied.

 

“Well, if they don’t, you can borrow one of mine. You can’t go to a funeral wearing trousers.”

 

“I’ll find one that fits,” I said irritably. “Stop nagging.”

 

“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” Baba said.

 

“Dinner is ready, my lady,” Una called from across the room.

 

“Excellent,” Mama said. “We’ll come back to this later.” She brushed the sand off her hands and stood up. Baba and I followed suit, and together we all moved to the opposite end of the table where Una had laid place settings.

 

“Serve Tessa first, please,” Mama said. I opened my mouth to say that I could serve myself, but she gave me a sharp look. “Be still.”

 

I sat back in my seat, arms folded, while Una poured a ladle of steaming  _ hibatash  _ into my bowl. The thick, creamy chowder was a Reenan staple, made with whatever vegetables and seafood were in season. 

 

“Thank you, Una,” I said politely. “Is it crab or clam? I can’t tell.”

 

“Crab, my lady,” she said, setting a plate of dark brown bread next to my bowl. “With  _ kaba _ leaves and potatoes.”

 

“It looks delicious.”

 

After serving my parents, Una took off her apron and bowed slightly, just as Kiro had done earlier. “With your permission, my lady, I’ll take my leave,” she said.

 

“Of course,” Mama said. “Don’t forget, you’re meeting the caterer at the temple tomorrow night.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “At five o’clock.”

 

“Correct. Have a pleasant evening.”

 

Una bowed once more and withdrew, leaving the three of us alone in the kitchen. For a while, there was silence as we ate. The stew was hot and flavorful, the pieces of crab chewy yet soft, and the thick, crusty bread provided a nice contrast of textures. I had to restrain myself from wolfing it down.

 

“So tell us more about this trip you’re taking,” Mama said at last, once we’d scraped the last bits of stew from our bowls.

 

“It’s not a trip, exactly,” I said. “It’s a research expedition to the Kathol sector, in the Outer Rim.”

 

“Why do you always have to go to such backwater places for research?” she complained. “Surely there are other, more civilized systems you could explore, instead of going into some desolate wilderness.”

 

“The research we’re doing can only be done in the Kathol system,” I explained patiently. “We’re tracking an energy signature that originates there.”

 

“What kind of signature?”

 

“A geochemical one. Shell and I have been tracking it for two years now. We think it could be a potential source of alternative energy.”

 

“You mean something other than fuel?”

 

I nodded, but my attention was focused on my father, who was pouring himself another glass of wine.

 

“So who’s funding this expedition?” he asked after a pause.

 

I steeled myself. “IST.”

 

He set the wine bottle down with a thud. “How many times have I told you, Tessa? You can’t trust Imps.”

 

“I didn’t have much choice,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “I sent applications to over fifty research councils. None of them have the money to fund something like this.”

 

“So what makes IST any different?” he asked. “Why the Empire’s sudden interest in alternative energy? From what I’ve seen, they’re perfectly content to waste resources and poison atmospheres as long as it doesn’t affect them directly.”

 

“As I pointed out in my grant proposal, none of the ships in the Imperial fleet are designed for fuel efficiency,” I said. “They’re wasting fuel at an alarming rate— over a thousand metric tons per year, and it’s only going to get worse as they build more ships. If they switch to renewable energy, they’d increase efficiency by thirty percent, maybe even more. They’d be able to travel much faster and waste far less money.”

 

“So if you find the source of this energy...” he began.   
  


“It’s possible it could be harnessed and modified to power starship engines,” I said, finishing his thought.

 

Baba raised an eyebrow. “How many engines?”

 

“Depending on how strong the energy is, it could potentially power an entire starfleet.”

 

I was surprised to see a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. “You used fuel efficiency as bait,” he said. “IST ate it up, and now they’re throwing money at you. Very shrewd.”

 

“I learned from the best,” I said shortly.

 

“Even so,” he said, “don’t trust them. I know how Imperial agencies work. You have to use their equipment, their transports, their resources. They think they own you and everything you find, and if you don’t get results quickly enough, they fire you. I’ve even heard stories of Imperial scientists stealing civilians’ research and claiming it as their own.”

 

He was zeroing in on everything I was worried about, cutting right to the heart of my anxiety. I tried to keep my face neutral, even as my hands twisted together in a cold ball under the table.

 

“The university is a partner,” I said. “They’ll make sure we get credit.”

 

“That won’t make a speck of difference,” Baba said. “If the Imps decide to steal your findings and use it for their own gain, there’s nothing you can do. You’ll be out of options. And out of a job, mostly likely.”

 

“Well in that case, I’ll just have to choose a new career,” I said, my temper flaring. “I hear the local pirate gangs are recruiting. Maybe I’ll join up.”

 

“Don’t be fresh,” Mama said again. “He’s just trying to prepare you for the possibility.”

 

“No, he’s isn’t,” I retorted. “He’s trying to discourage me from going.”

 

“When has that ever worked before?” my father snapped. “You always went off and did what you wanted, regardless of how it might affect others.”

 

“Something else I learned from you,” I said without thinking.

 

Baba’s fist suddenly clenched around the stem of his wine glass, his knuckles going white, and despite my best efforts, I felt frightened. He often used to shout at my brother and I when we were little, and to this day, every time he started getting angry I wanted to run and hide. I forced myself to keep looking straight into his eyes, my heart thumping against my ribs. Predictably, my mother rose up and began clearing away dishes, as if she too could sense the impending shouting match and wanted to get as far away from it as possible. 

 

Baba let the silence hang in the air for a good ten seconds. Then his grip on the glass relaxed and he leaned back slowly in his chair. The danger had passed, at least for now.

 

“It's getting late,” he said softly. “You should go to bed.”

 

I considered refusing, but the look on his face was enough to change my mind. Without bothering to say goodnight, I got up and walked out of the kitchen.

 

I had every intention of going up to my room and staying in there for the rest of the night, but once I reached the second floor, I kept going. When I reached the third, I turned to my left and walked down the dark, narrow hallway to my brother’s bedroom.

 

The door was shut, as it always was, and it groaned on its hinges as I pushed it open. A soft puff of air blew across my face, musty and damp. I walked over to the small window and peered out at the sky. The storm was rising fast. Dark clouds were beginning to roll in over the hills, and in the distance I saw a flash of lightning.

 

Shivering slightly, I walked over to the far corner and began moving boxes away from the wall, sneezing as the dust got into my nose. In a few minutes I’d cleared a space big enough for me to sit down. I ran a hand down the cracked and faded wallpaper until I reached the baseboard. The inscription was barely visible in the dim light.

 

_ Without pain, you will find no peace. _

_   Tamar Yuri _

 

I sat very still on the hard wooden floor, hugging my knees and staring at the words. I had found the inscription a few days after Tam’s death, when I finally worked up the courage to enter his room again. Immediately following the funeral, my father had begun purging our home of his son’s belongings. Anything that wasn’t nailed down was taken out into the backyard and thrown into the brush pile, even his bed. The memory was so painful that I rarely allowed myself to revisit it. Eventually, my fear of losing every last reminder of my brother’s life became greater than my fear of seeing his room, and I made myself go inside to rescue anything that was left. In my search, I had spotted the writing on the baseboard, but initially thought it was just a smudge of dirt. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was my brother’s handwriting. There was no date, so I had no way of knowing when Tam might have written it, but I suspected it hadn’t been there for very long.

 

I reached out and touched the inscription lightly with my fingertips, feeling a pressure start to build up in my chest. He had been so young when he died. My father had destroyed all holo-images of him, so it was hard for me to remember what he’d looked like. Red hair, dark eyes. Pale skin, freckles. Tall and skinny, with bony elbows and knees. But these were surface words, physical descriptions that could apply to anyone. Try as I might, I couldn’t remember what Tam looked like when he smiled, or what his voice sounded like. Sometimes I studied my own face in the mirror, trying to recreate my brother’s image based on my own features. We were only a year and a half apart— many people were convinced we were twins— but looking at myself still didn’t help me remember. Tam was unlike anyone else. He had a gentle sweetness to him, a tangible kindness that made him almost saint-like in my eyes. Other people, like Shell, had stories of older brothers constantly teasing and torturing their younger siblings, but I had none. We had fought, of course, but Tam was always the first to apologize and the last to hold a grudge. We had been the best of friends, closer even than Yixa and I, and when he died, part of me died with him.

 

“If your father sees you in here, he's going to have a fit,” Mama said from behind me.

 

Startled, I turned around. She was standing in the doorway, but it was too dark to make out her expression. 

 

I shifted slightly so I was blocking her view of the baseboard. “So he’ll have a fit. What else is new?”

 

Mama came into the room, walking gingerly across the floorboards. Climbing three flights must have been exhausting for her. She stopped in the center of the floor and looked around.

 

“I haven’t been up here in years,” she said. “I’d forgotten how drafty it is. I never understood why he wanted this room.”

 

“There’s a lot of things we didn’t understand about him,” I said.

 

She looked out the window. “Storm’s just about to hit.”

 

“I think it already has,” I said darkly.

 

“I’m sorry he’s so difficult,” Mama said, still gazing out the window. She had a strange look on her face, and it took me a moment to realize that it was sorrow. “He doesn’t mean to be.”

 

“Yes, he does,” I said. “He’s not happy unless he’s hurting someone.”

 

“That’s not true. Your father loves you as much as he can, Tessa.”

 

“You make it sound like a chore,” I said, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “It shouldn’t be that hard to love a child.”

 

Her expression hardened. “You didn’t exactly make it easy. Sneaking out at night. Skipping school. Smoking, drinking, chasing  _ chakana  _ boys. It was disgraceful.”

 

“Did you ever stop to ask  _ why _ I was doing those things?” I said, my voice starting to tremble. “Did it ever occur to you that I might have a reason besides just making trouble? The only way I could get Baba to even look at me was by threatening to tarnish his precious reputation. Otherwise I might as well have been invisible.”

 

“He didn’t have time to go running after you, cleaning up your mistakes,” Mama said. “You made things much harder than they needed to be.”

 

“Well, someone in this family needed to show some backbone,” I said, getting to my feet. “God knows you don’t have one.”

 

“Tessa, please,” she said, reaching for me, but I pushed past her and walked out of the room.

 

I went back down to the second floor and into my bedroom, shut the door, and curled up on my bed, fighting back the tears threatening to spill out. I’d barely been home three hours and already I was struggling not to cry. Why did I keep coming back? Why did I always expect things to change when I knew, deep down, that they never would?

 

I expected Mama to knock on the door, but she must have decided to leave me alone. She’d probably gone to bed as well, or gone back downstairs to finish the sand vials. My father had likely retreated into his study by now. I’d bet good money that he was drinking the rest of that wine straight from the bottle.

 

A loud crack sounded above my head, making me jump. The storm had finally touched down. I lay awake for a long time, watching the lightning illuminate my room, listening to the thunder rumble and growl, until at last I drifted off to sleep.

  
  


***

 

I awoke early the next morning, and for a moment, I thought I was still on Cirrus. Then I saw the poster above my bed and remembered. I was home, and today I was going to see my best friend for the first time in six years. I just had to figure out a way to get there without my mother noticing. After some thought, I picked out one of the dresses I’d tried on the night before, and after putting on my usual blouse, trousers, and boots, brought it downstairs along with a garment bag. 

 

Mama was in the kitchen, sitting once again at the table. She had finished filling all the vials with sand and was now tying pieces of blue ribbon around each of their necks.

 

“You’re up early,” she observed.

 

“Not as early as you,” I said.

 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, setting another finished vial on the table. “My joints were acting up.”

 

“Then you shouldn’t be doing that kind of work.”

 

“The pain’s in my knees, not my hands,” she said. “Tea and biscuits are on the sideboard if you’re hungry.” 

 

“Thanks.” I poured myself a cup of tea and sat down at the table. I sipped it slowly, enjoying the feel of steam curling up into my nose. 

 

Mama’s hands never stopped moving, swiftly wrapping the ribbon around each vial, tying it in a small bow, setting the vial down and picking up the next one. I watched her carefully, trying to gauge her mood. She seemed more cheerful than last night, although it was hard to know for sure. Tapani nobles were highly skilled at concealing their true feelings. They had to be. Revealing anger, sadness, fear, or even love could leave you open to manipulation, political or otherwise, and my mother had taught me early on never to make myself vulnerable in that way. Yet another reason I’d spent so much time with  _ chakana _ growing up. Commoners weren’t bound by the same restrictions as nobles, and with Yixa and her circle of friends, I’d been free to shout, curse, cry, and laugh as much as I pleased without fear of repercussion.

 

“What are your plans for today?” Mama asked after a few minutes.

 

“I thought I might pay a visit to Mrs. Neru,” I said. “I found a dress I want to wear, but it’s a little tight. Maybe she could let out the seams a bit.”

 

“Short notice,” she said. “I doubt she’ll be able to get it done before tonight.”

 

“If she can’t, I have a backup,” I said. “I’d just rather wear this one if possible.”

 

“Which one is it?”

 

I lifted it up and showed her.

 

“Ah yes,” she said. “That  _ would _ need some letting out. You were only fifteen when I bought it.”

 

I bit back a retort. I needed her in good spirits so she’d let me go, instead of keeping me trapped here helping with funeral preparations.

 

“Yes,” I admitted. “I’ve gotten a bit heavier since then.”

 

“It happens,” she said. “I used to be a size four, and now look at me.”

 

“Hush, Mama,” I said. “You’re beautiful.”

 

For once, I wasn’t being sarcastic. My mother might have grey hair and walk with a cane, but she was still tall and slender, with delicate features, large dark eyes, and long lashes. Why she’d married my father, who was short, scrawny, and fifteen years her senior, was something I’d never been able to figure out.

 

Mama shrugged off my compliment, but I could tell she was pleased. “You’d better get going,” she said. “I think Mrs. Neru opens her shop at eight. If you hurry you might be able to catch her before the morning rush.”

 

“I will.” I finished my tea and stood up. “I might stop by and see some friends afterwards, so if I’m not back for a while, don’t worry.”

 

“What friends?”

 

“Some people from school. Rikki, Garon, Ana, Ean. They’re still around, aren’t they?”

 

“Last I heard, Garon was working at his father’s office on Barnaba,” Mama said. “Rikki’s on Procopia doing something with fashion. Ana and Ean are still here, though. They just bought a house in the Tunzi neighborhood. I’ll let them know you’ll be dropping by.”

 

“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “You’re busy. Why don’t you just give me their contact information and I’ll see if they’re free today.”

 

“All right,” she said. “It should be in my datapad on the hall table. Just remember, you need to be at the temple by six o’clock tonight. I’ll need help setting up.”

 

“Okay,” I said. “See you later.” 

 

Once outside the kitchen, I shoved the dress inside its garment bag and walked down the hall towards the back of the house, not bothering to look at Mama’s datapad. I had no intention of visiting Ana and Ean. They were incredibly dull, the kind of people you saw once during the holidays and then promptly forgot until the following year.

 

I stepped out on the back porch and wrapped my cloak tightly around me. The storm had abated overnight, and a thick fog hung over the ground, coating the grass with dew. Everything smelled damp and earthy, and I took several deep breaths, pulling the cold, fresh air into my lungs and blowing it out in frosty clouds. Then I went down the steps and started down the path towards the city below, relishing the fact that I’d finally escaped my mother’s prying eyes. The heavy rain had left huge puddles everywhere, and after taking off my shoes, I stomped in each of them, feeling an almost childish delight in my rebellion, small as it was.

 

By the time I arrived at Mrs. Neru’s shop, my cloak and trousers were splattered with mud, but the elderly seamstress was too polite to comment. She flitted around me, taking measurements and making idle conversation, until she had what she needed. The dress would be ready by three o’clock. I thanked her and left the shop. By then it was half-past nine— enough time to visit my favorite place in Reena City before running the rest of my errands. I pulled up my hood and headed for the marketplace.

 

As always, it was bustling with activity. Customers haggled over the price of shrimp and seaweed. Sailors shouted and swore as they guided their fishing boats in and out of the harbor. Dock workers strode to and fro, balancing huge baskets of live lobsters, crabs, and clams on their shoulders. A group of  _ chakana _ children, too young to be in school yet, were teasing a crab that had fallen out of a basket and was now hiding inside an empty crate. The children edged closer and closer to the mouth of the crate, until the crab finally rushed out, snapping its large claws, and chased them back across the dock, making them shriek with laughter. Then they began the process all over again. I smiled, remembering similar games I’d played with Yixa and her friends. How long ago it seemed now.

 

I walked along the docks, stopping at a few stands and stalls to browse, until I found a pair of sturdy waterproof boots. After putting them on and tossing my old, mud-soaked shoes into a nearby trash bin, I finally gave into temptation and bought a  _ kaloki _ . I ate slowly as I walked down the length of the pier, savoring the soft, flaky bread and chewy, smoky fish.

 

When I reached the end of the pier, I sat down and dangled my legs over the side, admiring my new boots, which were made of dark brown leather and coated with a thick, waxy sealant that would protect against even the heaviest rainfall. I stared out over the choppy water, watching the sails of the fishing boats flap and ripple in the wind. The sky was still cloudy, but the wind was warmer and I could no longer see my breath. In the distance I heard the faint roar of the ocean, and an old  _ chakana _ ballad Kiro used to sing drifted into my mind.

 

_ The salt is the sea _

_ And the sea is the salt _

 

_ Waves will rise _

_ And waves will fall _

 

_ But the salt is the sea _

_ And the sea is the salt. _

 

When I asked Kiro what the words meant, he shrugged. “No one really knows,” he said. “It’s a very old song.”

 

“What do  _ you _ think it means?” I asked. I was eight at the time and full of endless questions.

 

“I think it means that we must have both,” he said. “If there was no sea, there would be no salt, and if there was no salt, there would be no sea. Reena needs both.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because if it did not, there would be no more fish.”

 

“What happens if there’s no fish?”

 

Kiro was silent for a few moments. “Reena would die,” he said at last.

 

I thought about that for a while. “So we have to make sure that there’s salt and sea, so Reena won’t die?”

 

“Yes,” he said. “Reena must have both salt and sea to live. Remember that, always.”

 

It was only years later that I realized what Kiro was really trying to say. It wasn’t the sea or the salt that kept Reena alive― it was the  _ chentana  _ and the  _ chakana _ . In his view, at least, you couldn’t have one without the other. You needed both, or life as we knew it would cease to exist.

 

I still wasn’t sure if I fully agreed with his philosophy. Yes, you needed both halves to make a whole, but unlike the sea and the salt, the people of Reena did not intermingle or merge together. They remained separate. Did we really need such deep division between noble and commoner in order to survive?

 

I checked my chrono. It was now half past ten, and I still needed to visit the holotech shop before heading for Kiro’s cottage. I sighed and stood up, my spine cracking as I stretched my arms over my head. After one last look at the water, I turned and began walking back towards the city center.


	4. New Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn arrives at the Emperor’s palace and learns that his new assignment includes a highly classified mission. 
> 
> Warning: explicit sexual content.

There were thousands of rooms and hundreds of levels within the Imperial Palace, but I had seen very few of them. The Emperor’s red-robed guardsmen always escorted me from the shuttle bay to the throne room and back again, ensuring that I only saw what their master wished me to see. This time was no different, although I was entering the palace from the underground parking complex rather than the shuttle bay. As the landspeeder pulled up next to the large archway leading into the palace, I saw two of the guards waiting for me, their faces entirely concealed underneath red helmets.

 

“Shall I wait here for you, sir?” Ensign Vondas asked, turning round in his seat.  _ His voice holds tension― he is uncomfortable, even frightened, by being in such close proximity to the Emperor. _

 

“Yes, thank you,” I replied. “I will not be long.”

 

“Very good, sir.”

 

I stepped out of the speeder, pinning my insignia plaque to the front of my suit as I did so. If there had been time, I would have changed back into my uniform, but this would have to do. Silently, the guards extended their arms in the direction of the archway, indicating that I should enter and that they would follow. I did so, walking through the archway and into a well-lit foyer about twenty meters square, decorated only with a long, narrow table holding a vase of dried flowers. There were four lifts, two on either side of the foyer, each presumably leading to a different section of the palace. The guards escorted me to the one on the far right, and one of them keyed in a code on his comlink. 

 

There was a brief pause, and then the lift doors slid open with a low hiss. The three of us stepped inside, turned around, and faced front. The doors slid shut, and without warning, the compartment rocketed upwards, making my ears pop. I didn’t know exactly how tall the palace was, but I estimated it was at least half a kilometer. I swallowed hard, trying to rid my ears of the ringing sensation, and after a moment, they cleared. Not that it mattered. The guards made no sound at all as we continued rising upwards. On my first few visits to the palace, I had attempted to engage them in conversation, but was always met with silence. Now I merely acknowledged their presence with a nod, and ignored them after that. It was an agreeable arrangement, as it gave me more time to prepare for what was waiting on the other side of the throne room doors.

 

During my time in his service, I had heard many whispers about the mysterious powers the Emperor possessed, everything from mind control to the ability to walk through solid walls. Some were convinced that he could travel across the galaxy in the blink of an eye, while others claimed he had used the dark side of the Force to make himself immortal. Palpatine did little to dispel such rumors― in fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he encouraged them― and as a result, even the bravest Imperial officer went slightly pale when summoned to his presence.

 

Personally, I did not find the Emperor particularly frightening, but there were certain things about him that gave me pause. Most disturbing was the amount of pleasure he seemed to derive from inflicting pain and suffering― not only on his enemies, but on anyone in his service who had failed him in some way. This method of discipline seemed foolish to me, as well as short-sighted. In my experience, it was nearly always preferable to treat a mistake as an opportunity to learn, rather than an excuse to punish someone. Soldiers could not perform at their best if they lived in constant fear of their commanders.

 

Ultimately, however, it did not matter how Palpatine had acquired his power or whether I agreed with his tactics. I had pledged my service to the Emperor to ensure the protection of my people, and no matter how much I might dislike him, I would continue to honor that promise. I reminded myself of this as the lift slowed to a halt, and the doors slid open to reveal the familiar sight of the hallway leading to the throne room. 

 

I stepped out and started down the hall, the guards flanking me on either side. As I walked, the thick carpeting muffling the sound of my boots, I continued turning over various possibilities and scenarios in my mind, trying to anticipate the Emperor’s thoughts and actions before I entered his domain. A summons from Palpatine was not in itself unusual, but it was rare to receive one so soon before a mission. It therefore stood to reason that the Emperor had recently acquired new information that might affect my assignment in Kathol. I’d only received orders a few days ago and was deep in preparation for what promised to be a long, challenging mission in the farthest reaches of the Outer Rim. What unexpected development could have transpired in just a few days’ time? Why the secrecy? And, perhaps more importantly, why the urgency? I would know soon enough.

 

Two more guards were posted outside the entrance to the throne room, but they stepped aside as we approached. Seconds later, the enormous double doors slid open with a low rumble, and I stepped through them. My escorts did not follow me, but took up their own posts outside the entrance. They would wait here until my meeting with Palpatine was over, and then we would have another long, silent journey back down to the parking complex.

 

The doors closed behind me and thick, heavy silence fell. I began walking down the long strip of red carpet towards the far end of the room, keeping a pace that was neither fast nor slow, but somewhere in between. More red-robed guards were standing on either side of the carpet, silent as statues, faces masked, staff weapons held at their sides. I ignored them as well, keeping my eyes focused straight ahead.

 

The Emperor’s primary goal when designing his throne room seemed to be keeping his visitors in a state of perpetual uneasiness. Everything was dimly lit, and both floor and walls were covered with polished black tile that reflected light in all directions, making it difficult to focus your eyes on any particular point. The ceiling sloped downwards, growing increasingly lower as you continued down the carpet, making it feel as though you were descending into a dark cave. There was no art, no holodisplays, no decoration― nothing to reveal the personality of the room’s occupant. There was only the long, thin line of carpet painting a red stripe through the sea of black, and at the end of it, half-hidden in shadow like some dark hulking beast, was the throne, sitting on a raised platform over a meter high. Like nearly everything else in the room, it was black in color, except for the control panels set into each of the armrests. The controls glowed brightly in the dim light, blinking red and blue and green, subtle reminders of Palpatine’s ability to deploy fleets, command armies, and broadcast announcements to the entire galaxy with the touch of a few buttons.

 

At last, I reached the end of the carpet and looked up at the man who held my fate and so many others in the palm of his hand. As always, he was sitting motionless, the hood of his black robe casting a shadow over his face. After a long pause, he raised his head and looked at me. His sunken, bloodshot eyes bored into mine, and I gazed back, feeling a mild sense of disgust at the deeply scarred face and sagging skin. Normally I did not judge someone’s character based on physical appearance, as such a thing was usually beyond one’s control, but in this case, the grotesque features reflected the Emperor’s true nature with complete accuracy.

 

“Congratulations on your promotion, Admiral,” Palpatine said.  _ His voice is soft, but it carries to all corners of the room. _

 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said, inclining my head slightly.

 

“Why are you not in uniform?” he inquired, almost lazily.

 

“I was visiting a museum when you summoned me, my lord.”

 

“I see,” he said.  _ There is a hint of disapproval in his voice. _ “And do you often go about Coruscant dressed like a civilian?”

 

“Not often, my lord,” I said calmly. “The sight of an alien in an Imperial uniform is… disquieting for some. I merely wished to remain inconspicuous.”

 

“I see,” he said again.  _ The corners of his mouth turn upward, indicating amusement _ .

 

“If my lack of uniform offends, my lord…”

 

“It is of no concern,” he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “We have far more important matters to discuss.”  _ He leans forward slightly on his throne, gnarled fingers pressing lightly against the armrests. _ “I understand you have been assigned to the Kathol sector to deal with the unrest surrounding Moff Sarne’s appointment.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said. “Sarne has encountered a great deal of resistance from local insurgent groups since taking office. According to ISB intelligence, there has been at least one attempt at a political coup, as well as sabotage of the Imperial manufacturing plants on Charis and Oon Tien.”

 

“He continues to assure me that the situation is under control,” the Emperor said.  _ His upper lip curls slightly, indicating scorn. _ “But you and I both know that is not the case. Either he is simply incompetent, which I doubt, or there is something else at work here.”

 

“You think he is attempting a coup of his own?”

 

“In recent weeks, Sarne has employed several local security firms to protect the Oon Tien and Charis facilities,” Palpatine said. “My sources tell me that most of these so-called ‘contractors’ are little more than fronts for smuggling and other criminal activities. I suspect that they have established a mutually beneficial arrangement with our moff, though I have no proof as of yet.”

 

“I assume that is where I come in.”

 

“Precisely,” he replied. “Officially, your mission is merely to stabilize the sector. Unofficially, it is of a more… delicate nature.” He leaned forward slightly. “Kathol needs a leader with unwavering loyalty, a true servant of the Empire. Someone who can bring the sector under control and utilize its resources to the fullest. Your orders are to remove Moff Sarne from power and replace him with a leader of my choosing.”

 

“A delicate mission, indeed,” I said, my blood stirring at the thought of tackling such a complex assignment. “I assume you have selected a replacement?”

 

“I have,” Palpatine said.  _ He leans back in his seat. His expression holds satisfaction.  _ “Senator Reza Yarrin is an experienced politician and is currently representing her homeworld of Nubia. She will serve me far better in Kathol.”  _ He lifts a finger towards me.  _ “Yarrin will serve as your political advisor while on the  _ Chimaera _ . Once Sarne is ousted from power, she will take his place.”

 

“I understand, Your Highness.”

 

_ The Emperor smiles thinly, but his eyes remain hooded and watchful. _ “You must find a way to discredit Sarne in order to justify his removal from leadership. Offer proof of his corruption, or frame him as a sympathizer to these insurgents. I do not care what methods you use, as long as they are effective.”

 

“Yes, my lord.”

 

“I have informed the senator that you will retrieve her three days from now. That should be adequate time to prepare suitable accommodations. Is everything clear to you, Admiral?”

 

“It is.”

 

“Then that will be all. We will speak again when you return.”  _ He brushes a hand through the air, indicating dismissal. _

 

“Thank you, Your Highness,” I said.

 

I bowed deeply, turned around, and began walking back up the long stretch of carpet towards the entrance, smiling to myself as I imagined Vanto’s reaction to the news that a senator would be staying on board with us. He disliked politicians nearly as much as I did.

 

“One more thing, Admiral,” the Emperor said.

 

I stopped and slowly turned back around. “Yes, my lord?”

 

_ The Emperor’s eyes narrow as he stares down at me. His expression holds caution, and perhaps a trace of suspicion. _ “For this operation to be successful, the true nature of Senator Yarrin’s assignment must not be revealed to anyone. Not even to your crew. Is that understood?”

 

I felt a flicker of unease. How had he known that my first order of business upon returning to the  _ Chimaera  _ would be to tell Vanto all that had happened? 

 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said after a moment.

 

“Good. Dismissed.”

 

***

 

“A political adviser?” Vanto exclaimed. “What do you need one of those for? You’ve got me.”

 

Experienced as I was in military matters, I’d never been very comfortable in the political world, and relied heavily on Vanto to help me navigate its murky, often treacherous waters. As a result, he’d become highly protective of me and my position within the Empire, especially when it came to outside influences. I’d expected such a reaction from him, though perhaps not one quite so strong.

 

“This had nothing to do with you,” I said soothingly. “You are a fine commander, and more than capable of advising me on political matters. The Emperor simply recommended that I take advantage of Senator Yarrin’s expertise while she is with us.”

 

“But why is she coming to Kathol in the first place?” he persisted. “It doesn’t make any sense. Sarne’s got a full cabinet and he’s already installed governors in every major system. What position could he possibly give her?”

 

For a moment I considered telling him the truth, but my orders had been utterly clear. No one else was to know the senator’s true purpose on this mission, not even my most trusted friend.

 

“I do not know,” I said. “I am merely following Emperor Palpatine’s orders. It is not my place to question them, and neither is it yours.”

 

Vanto flushed slightly. “I just don’t think you need advice from a senator in order to do your job, sir. That’s all.”

 

“Your support is appreciated,” I replied. “However, once the senator comes aboard, it would be prudent to keep your opinions to yourself.”

 

“Yes, sir,” he muttered.

 

“Thank you,” I said, rising from my chair. “Now if you will excuse me, I must pay a visit to the galley.”

 

“Getting scraps for Blip again?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“I don’t know why you make such a fuss over a little lizard,” Vanto said. “He doesn’t  _ do  _ anything. He just sits on that tree branch all day and blinks.”

 

“Perhaps that is what he wants you to think,” I replied. “In reality, I suspect he is secretly plotting your demise.”

 

_ Vanto rolls his eyes as he rises to his feet, his expression holding both exasperation and amusement.  _ “Goodnight, sir,” he said.

 

“Goodnight, Commander.”

 

After he left the office, I shut down my data terminal and turned off the lights. Then I went down to the galley, which was adjacent to the officers’ dining room.

 

As usual, Neesha was clattering about the kitchen, her crested head just visible above the countertops. A purple-skinned Aleena with stubby limbs, a long torso, and a wide mouth full of needle-sharp teeth, the chef was the only alien member of my crew besides myself. When I’d first dined at her establishment on Coruscant a few years ago, I knew I’d stumbled upon a culinary treasure. Her dishes had the perfect balance of flavor, texture, and spicing, and she could make even the blandest of foods taste extraordinary. When I’d been given command of the  _ Chimaera _ , I wanted nothing more than to bring her aboard as my personal chef, and after some negotiation and a generous increase in salary, she accepted the offer. 

 

So far, I’d been pleased with the results. Neesha was highly efficient and organized, and her boundless energy more than compensated for her small size. She was used to cooking for large groups, so providing three meals a day for myself and the senior staff was fairly easy for her, even with all of our dietary preferences and restrictions. The chef paid close attention to what each officer was eating (or not eating) and adjusted accordingly. Having free rein in the kitchen and a large grocery budget also gave her the flexibility to experiment and invent new dishes, which I appreciated. Most Imperial chefs were sorely lacking in creativity and innovation, and after enduring years of their mediocre cooking, I could now eat nearly as well as I did before joining the Empire.

 

For Neesha’s convenience, I’d had all the galley countertops, tables, and appliances lowered by half a meter, but even so, the chef didn’t catch sight of me until she came around the corner of the large butcher block, carrying a crate of vegetables in her stubby arms. When she looked up and saw me― or more accurately, my knees― in the doorway, her wide mouth split into an enormous grin.

 

“Admiral,” she cried, setting down the crate and practically jumping up and down with excitement. “A good evening to you!”

 

“Good evening, Neesha,” I replied, smiling slightly. The Aleena was always in high spirits, no matter what the occasion, and every time I visited the galley, she treated it as a cause for celebration. “Have you any scraps you can spare for Blip?”

 

Neesha’s smile widened even further, and instinctively, I braced myself. The chef was less than a meter tall, but her lung capacity more than made up for her short stature, and the greater her enthusiasm, the louder her voice became.

 

“I have some pichi peelings,” she shouted, sprinting across the floor toward the row of trash bins. “Would he like those? Or I could see what’s in the hydroponics bay.”

 

“Peelings will be fine,” I said.

 

The Aleena stood on tiptoe and reached into one of the bins. “I’ll bag them up,” she called over her shoulder, scooping up a handful of the dark yellow peelings. “And I’ll fix a plate for you, too.”

 

“That is not necessary.”

 

“Nonsense,” she bellowed. “You are too thin, Admiral! You must eat more. Keep up your strength! How else will you conquer your enemies?”

 

I smiled again. We went through this routine at least once a week, and it always ended with me holding a plate heaped with more food than I could possibly eat.

 

“Very well,” I said. “Who am I to argue with a master chef?”

 

“Who, indeed?” Neesha said, as if offended by the very thought. “Here are the peelings.” She handed me a small bag. “Now sit down. It will only take a moment.”

 

I pulled up a three-legged stool and settled myself on the metal seat, tucking the bag of peelings into my hip pocket. Watching Neesha bustle about, taking bowls out of the refrigerator and spooning their contents into a large container, I started to feel the tension from my visit to the palace slowly ebb away. There was something relaxing about watching someone prepare food, even someone as frenzied as Neesha. The chef liked to talk and kept up a constant stream of chatter all day long, even if no one else was around to listen. She had many stories about the places she’d visited, and even more about the large number of children and grandchildren she’d left back on Coruscant. I enjoyed listening to her almost as much as I enjoyed her cooking.

 

When she first came aboard the  _ Chimaera _ , I was concerned about how my crew might react to Neesha. Most Imperials tended to see aliens as lesser beings, undeserving of equal treatment or even common courtesy. It was a prejudice born of the Empire’s human-centric culture, one that I’d encountered many times rising through its ranks, and had anyone serving aboard my ship shown the slightest bit of disrespect towards the chef, I would have ousted them immediately. Fortunately that proved unnecessary, as Neesha’s warm, outgoing personality endeared her to the crew almost instantly. Aleenas were a highly social species, and Neesha clearly viewed each member of the crew as an extension of her family. That, combined with her complete disregard for Imperial protocol, meant that she had no qualms about ordering people about, regardless of rank or superiority. She bossed everyone, even the senior officers, much as a parent might do with a pack of unruly children. It was quite amusing to watch Commander Brax, a huge, balding man in his fifties who could easily tear someone’s arms off, being chastised by the tiny chef for leaving food on his plate. Many of the younger crew members called her names like  _ mimi, daya, bonni, tay,  _ or  _ kukra _ ― all variations on the word for “grandmother”― and it was not unusual to see one of them perched on the same stool I was sitting on now, a mug of tea in hand, seeking advice or a sympathetic ear.

 

“Did you go to the museum?” Neesha asked, starting to slice a loaf of dark brown bread into thick wedges.

 

“I did,” I answered. “It was quite fascinating. I had an excellent Tapani tour guide.”

 

“Really? What province was he from?”

 

“She,” I said absently. 

 

“What?”

 

“She,” I repeated. “My guide was female. She was from Reena, the smallest province in the sector, and had many insights to share about Tapani culture.”

 

Neesha cocked her head to the side. “Was it a private tour?” she asked.

 

“Not exactly,” I admitted. “It was more of an informal conversation.”

 

“So she wasn’t really a tour guide?”

 

“No,” I said. “She was a visitor.”

 

“I see,” Neesha said.  _ Her eyes are fixed on my face, her expression holding intense curiosity. _ “What was she like? Young, old?”

 

“Fairly young,” I said, wondering where she was going with this line of questioning. “Early thirties, I believe.”

 

“Pretty?”

 

I blinked. “Yes, I suppose so. Why do you ask?”

 

The chef wagged a stubby finger at me. “Don’t play games with me, Admiral. I’ve been around this galaxy twice over. I know that look when I see it.”

 

“What look is that?” I said, feigning ignorance.

 

“I  _ said  _ don’t play games with me,” Neesha said sternly. “You like this woman. You like her very much. I can see it in your face.”

 

I didn’t reply. My chef had an irritating habit of knowing exactly what I was thinking, no matter how much I might try to hide it. Had she been any other member of my crew, I would have chastised her for speaking out of turn, but I knew that Neesha’s constant bossing, cajoling, fretting, and advising was motivated purely by concern for my well-being, not a desire to control or undermine me.

 

“Did you give her your number?” Neesha demanded when I didn’t respond. “Please tell me you at least had the presence of mind to do  _ that _ .”

 

“Yes,” I said after a moment. “I gave her the number for my personal comlink.”

 

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “I’m sure she was pleased. Did she give you hers in return?”

 

“She did.”

 

“Oh, good! Don’t wait too long to call her. Women don’t like to be kept waiting.” She shook her head emphatically. “When my husband first took me courting, he waited a full three  _ weeks  _ before arranging a second date. Don’t be like him, you hear? Promise me you’ll call her in the next few days.”

 

I smiled to myself, trying to imagine a young Neesha being courted. Had she been just as energetic and bossy back then? Probably. Her husband must have had a great deal of stamina, in more ways than one. I wondered if he was back on Coruscant, or even still alive. It was the first time Neesha had mentioned him.

 

“I promise,” I said gravely. “However, she did say she was going home to see family, so she may not be readily available.”

 

“If her family’s anything like mine, she might welcome the distraction,” Neesha said, and then cackled, presumably at her own wit. “Here’s your plate. Eat it all or I’ll have your head.” She snapped the cover on the container and pushed it into my hands. “Now shoo. I have a lot of work to finish.”

 

I left the galley and walked slowly back up to my office, carrying the heavy container of food in my right hand, keeping the other free for entering my access code. As I approached the entrance, I saw that Lieutenant Petra was now off duty and a new officer had taken his place, one whom I had not seen before.

 

“Admiral, sir,” the officer said, saluting. He was about Vanto’s age, with pale skin and dark features.

 

“Good evening,” I replied. “I do not believe we have been introduced.”

 

“Junior Lieutenant Gabriel Malley, sir,” he said, his eyes flicking down to the plate in my hand.  _ His pupils dilate slightly and I hear a faint gurgle from his stomach. He is hungry. _

 

“Are you new to the  _ Chimaera _ , Lieutenant Malley?” I asked.

 

“No, sir,” he replied. “Just reassigned.”

 

“From?”

 

“Deck Three. Armory detail.”

 

“I see.” I considered him for a moment. “And have you eaten this evening, Lieutenant?”

 

“Have I―” Malley paused, looking confused. “No, sir,” he admitted. “Didn’t get the chance before shift.”

 

I set the container of food down on the desk and popped open the lid, revealing a copious amount of potatoes, meat, bread, and vegetables. “Perhaps you could assist me with this, then.”

 

“Oh no, sir,” he said quickly. “I couldn’t do that.”

 

“Why not?” I asked. “There is more food here than either of us can possibly eat. My chef is far too generous with her portions.”

 

_ Malley hesitates. His lips compress and his shoulder muscles tighten, indicating nervousness. _ “It wouldn’t be proper, sir,” he said.

 

“I am your commander,” I said calmly. “I will decide what is proper and what is not. Take some of this food off my hands, Lieutenant. That is an order.”

 

_ Malley’s face relaxes and his heart rate slows.  _ “Yes, sir,” he said with a slight grin, and pulled the container towards him.

 

***

 

Twenty minutes later, I finally entered the peaceful solitude of my quarters. Located directly above my office and accessible only by a small turbolift, the large cabin and its adjacent sleeping room was my sanctuary, the only place on the  _ Chimaera  _ where I could fully relax. Some commanders, like Captain Faro, maintained an open-door policy where any officer could knock on her door and be invited in, but I had never been comfortable with such an arrangement. “There are four acceptable circumstances in which you are allowed to enter my quarters,” I had explained to the crew on my first day aboard. “To clean, to perform maintenance, to answer a summons, or to save me from certain death. I will consider anything else an infringement of my privacy.” Only Vanto, Dr. Kahn, and Commander Brax were permitted to enter my rooms without prior authorization, and even then, only during an emergency. So far, such an event hadn’t occurred, but I knew it was only a matter of time. Serving the Empire, especially as a military commander, carried a certain amount of risk to one’s personal safety. It was part of the job.

 

I closed the door behind me and slipped off my boots, a deep contentment setting in. I was home, or the closest thing to it. I surveyed the room, making sure nothing had been disturbed in my absence. Ensign Simmons had clearly been on cleaning duty today― not a trace of dust or speck of lint anywhere. I must remember to send a note to his commanding officer, I thought. Such attentiveness deserved high praise.

 

There was a small galley in the far corner of the cabin, which I rarely used except for storing the copious amounts of food Neesha gave me. Lieutenant Malley had eaten quite a bit, but the container was still only half empty. I opened the refrigerator door and set the container on the top shelf. Then I went across the room to see Blip.

 

As usual, he was asleep in his favorite position― hanging upside down from one of the tree branches that made up his perch. I hissed softly between my teeth as I approached, and after a moment, he opened his beady black eyes.

 

“Good evening, small one,” I said in Cheunh. “Did you sleep well?”

 

Blip gave me a few slow blinks, flicking his tongue in and out, tasting the air. He was still a young ysalamir, only twenty centimeters long, but I wasn’t sure if he was going to get much bigger. I had found him nearly a year ago, during a visit to Mykyr, lying in a tiny crumpled heap at the base of an Olbio tree. My guess was that he’d lost his grip on a branch and fallen down to the forest floor. There was no way to reattach him to the tree, as his claws had already retracted, so I took him back with me to base camp. After consulting with the locals, I constructed a frame out of Olbio saplings and other organic materials from the planet, and then carefully placed the lizard’s feet against a branch. Gradually the tree’s nutrients began to enter his system, and after a few days, his claws came back out and gripped the bark with full force. I was afraid such a traumatic event might have affected the creature’s development, but he seemed to have suffered no permanent damage, other than being slightly smaller than average.

 

“Would you like a treat?” I inquired, taking the bag of pichi peelings out of my pocket. Blip didn’t really need extra sustenance, since the tree frame provided all the nutrients he required, but I liked feeding him anyway. It felt good to provide for someone, even if that someone was only a lizard. It also gave me an excuse to speak my native language, which was growing increasingly rusty with each passing year. Blip seemed to like the soft, slithery sounds of Cheunh, and I would sometimes talk to him for a full half hour, telling him stories of my life before the Empire.

 

Blip cocked his head and began crawling towards me, eyes fixed on the bag in my hands. I pulled out a single yellow spiral and held it out, letting it dangle between my fingers. Within seconds, the lizard had reached me and snapped up the peeling with his tongue. He gobbled it quickly, the muscles in his tiny throat contracting as he swallowed.

 

“Slowly,” I admonished gently. “Don’t forget to chew.”

 

Blip made a chirping sound and craned his neck towards me, asking for more. I smiled and gave him another peeling. This one went down almost as quickly as the first.

 

“Slowly,” I repeated. “Last time you ate so quickly, you made yourself sick. We do not want a repeat of that, do we? Ensign Simmons has enough to clean as it is.”

 

Blip chirped again, as if to reassure me that he understood. I fed him a third peeling and then put the rest away for later. Slowly, I extended my hand towards him, holding my palm low and flat. The ysalamir couldn’t be separated from his tree for long periods, as he needed a near-constant flow of nutrients, but he could detach for a short time.

 

Blip cocked his head again, considering me. Then he stepped carefully into my hand and walked slowly up my arm, his claws digging into the finely woven wool of my sleeve. He reached my shoulder and paused, sitting up on his hind legs, and then did something he’d never done before― he flicked his tongue against my ear, as if testing whether I had any nutritional value. I almost flinched, but caught myself in time. Certain parts of my face, particularly my ears and forehead ridges, were extremely sensitive, and I was unused to anyone else touching those areas besides myself. Blip, seemingly oblivious to my surprise, continued his exploration, his soft, wet tongue tickling my earlobe. I shivered slightly. How long had it been since I’d experienced any form of physical contact? I could not remember. But if a lizard slurping in my ear was enough to give me chills… well, it had been a  _ very _ long time.

 

Suddenly disgusted with myself, I reached up and gently moved Blip away from my face. He didn’t seem to mind. He stayed on my shoulder a few moments more, then crawled down my arm to hop back onto his perch, making small purring sounds, and settled down to sleep.

 

I went into my bedroom and shut the door, still ashamed at how easily I’d become aroused, especially by something so innocuous. Normally, I was able to suppress such feelings by focusing entirely on my work― fighting battles, devising strategies, making predictions, solving puzzles, testing theories, studying art. When that failed, I relied on meditation and sparring sessions for release, but somehow, I doubted that any amount of exercise, whether physical or mental, would be enough to temper my urges tonight. My encounter with Tessa had awakened something in me, something I had not felt in many years. Something not easily silenced, and even less easily forgotten.

 

_ Are you married? _

 

_ I was, once. _

 

I closed my eyes, letting the world outside fade away and a memory take its place.

 

_ Curled up on the fur rug, baking in the heat from the fireplace, flames crackling and popping, snow blanketing the ground outside. Zala is lying on her stomach, her head resting on her crossed arms, her blue skin glowing purple in the dim light. My palms are slick with oil as I rub her lower back, finding the knots buried deep inside her muscles, softening them one by one. _

 

_ Are you sure this is the only way? she asks. _

 

_ I am certain, I reply. I wish there was another. One that didn't involve me leaving you.  _

 

_ She rolls over on her back and stares up at me, red eyes boring into my own. Will you ever return? _

 

_ The question fills me with utter sorrow, and I cannot bear to look at her as I speak the word.  _

 

_ No. _

 

I undressed and slipped into my bunk, the sheets cool and crisp against my bare skin. I turned off the light and stared up at the darkened ceiling, willing myself to fall asleep quickly. Of course I couldn’t, and eventually the temptation became too much to bear. I reached down, wrapped my hand around my cock, and began stroking myself, slowly at first, then faster as I let the familiar scene play out in my mind. Zala kneeling in front of me, her blue-black hair hanging loose, both hands cupped around my buttocks, taking me in her mouth. We made love half a dozen times the night before I left, each one a little more hungry, a little more desperate. I remembered tracing her forehead with the tips of my fingers, watching the glow spread from her face to her neck, then down to her breasts. Burying my face between her thighs, prodding and pressing with my tongue, listening to her moans climb high, then low, then higher still, her pale creamy skin flushing dark red at my touch.

 

Abruptly, I stopped and opened my eyes. That wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be here. Not now, not in this sacred place. I closed my eyes again and concentrated on Zala’s hands, her eyes, her lean, sinewy body entwined with mine. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her to me, kissing her throat, burying my fingers in her long, dark red hair.

 

My eyes snapped open again. Curse this woman. Why did she keep intruding on my most private thoughts? I took a few deep breaths, trying to bring myself back to the firelit room, the snow falling outside, the last few hours I would likely ever spend with my wife, but it did no good. Tessa kept appearing, either replacing Zala entirely or joining the two of us on that fur rug. It felt deeply wrong to leave her there, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I imagined her spread out and naked before me, her pale breasts full and heavy, her nipples erect, her mouth opening in a silent moan as I slid into her. Seconds later my muscles began to spasm, and I came with a groan that threatened to tear my insides apart.

 

I lay there, breathing hard, feeling the damp sheet settle over my softening cock. I would have to strip the bed, I thought dimly, the sense of shame enveloping me again. As I’d said to Blip, Ensign Simmons had enough messes to clean up as it was.

 

I got up from my bunk and stumbled over to the fresher unit. I ran the tap until the water turned warm, then splashed some over my lower body and dried off with a towel. Quickly I stripped my bunk and stuffed the bundle of soiled sheets into the laundry chute. There was a spare set of sheets in the small closet next to the fresher, and I unfolded them carefully, the crisp scent of starch filling my nose. After making sure there were no damp spots on the mattress, I remade the bunk exactly as before and crawled into it, feeling suddenly exhausted. Within a few minutes I drifted off to sleep, images of Tessa and her beautiful dark eyes still swirling through my mind.


	5. Chakana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revisiting old friends and childhood haunts reminds Tessa of the double life she led growing up.

When I was seven years old, I ventured into the woods behind my house. My mother had forbidden me to go there since it was past the property line, but the day was unusually hot, and after wandering the manor grounds for nearly half an hour, I was becoming sweaty and uncomfortable. The patch of woods was just a few steps away from where I stood, and the cool shade was beckoning to me. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, and cautiously stepped across the treeline.

 

At first I was fearful, but after a few minutes of walking among the tall, stately trees, I began to feel less afraid. Plenty of sunlight filtered down through the branches overhead, and the only creatures I saw were birds and small, furry  _ zumi _ . Maybe the woods weren’t such a dark and dangerous place after all. I kept walking, growing more confident with every step, and when I discovered a dirt path leading further into the trees, I didn’t hesitate. I followed it eagerly, hoping it led somewhere exciting. 

 

After a few minutes, the path ended at a clearing, and I was delighted to see a small cottage sitting there, nestled beside a bubbling stream. It was a square building made of greystone, with a thatched roof, a stone chimney, and a rough-hewn wooden door. There was a fire pit in the yard, a clothesline stretched between two trees, and a garden with green plants growing in it. Who lived here? A witch, perhaps, or a fairy princess?

 

My question was answered almost immediately as a girl emerged from behind the cottage. I ducked out of sight behind a large tree trunk, then poked my head out curiously. The girl was about my age, with long black hair done up in braids like mine. She was holding a long stick in both hands, and I watched in fascination as she stepped forward and swung it in a wide arc, brandishing it like a sword. It looked like fun. I wondered if she would let me join in the game. Tam was fun to play with, but he preferred to stay inside reading books, sketching, or writing stories, all of which I enjoyed doing, but didn’t find nearly as exciting as climbing trees, building forts, or fighting monsters.

 

Suddenly the girl turned around and caught sight of me. She jumped in surprise.

 

“Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here? You don’t live here.”

 

“I’m Tessa,” I said, stepping out from behind the tree. “I live in Yuri Manor. What are you playing?”

 

She didn’t answer right away, but stared at me with large, dark eyes, clearly trying to decide if she could trust me.

 

“Dragons,” she said finally.

 

“Can I play?”

 

“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “You’re a  _ boola _ .”

 

I’d never heard the word before, but I could tell from her tone and expression that it was not a flattering one. “I am not,” I declared, stepping towards her.

 

“Yes, you are,” she insisted. “You live in Yuri Manor. That’s the big house on the hill. Only  _ boolas _ live there. That’s what my baba told me.”

 

“Well, I’m not,” I said, and took another step forward. “I’m a girl, like you. And I want to play dragons.”

 

“You don’t know how to play,” she scoffed.

 

“You can teach me.”

 

There was a long pause while she considered the idea. I waited, trying not to look too much like a  _ boola,  _ whatever that was.

 

“Okay,” she said at last. “But you have to do what I say.”

 

“Okay,” I agreed.

 

We played together for more than an hour, until at last I heard the dinner bell ringing faintly in the distance. I turned to my new friend.

 

“I have to go home now,” I told her.

 

“Come back tomorrow,” she said.

 

I nodded. “What’s your name?” I asked, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t told me.

 

“Yixa,” she said.

 

Young as I was, I knew instinctively that Mama and Baba would probably not approve of my newfound friendship, and on the walk back to my house, I decided to keep it a secret. This was surprisingly easy to do, as my father was on Procopia most of the time and my mother was far too busy attending social engagements, organizing fundraisers, and running the household to keep constant watch over me. The only one I had to be careful about was Una, who had sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue, but somehow, I managed to keep my activities hidden even from her. It was a long time before my parents found out that I was friends with a  _ chakana  _ girl. Even Tam didn’t find out until over a year had passed.

 

Yixa, on the other hand, had no reason to keep things from her father, and told Kiro about her new friend that very evening. Naturally, he was shocked, and more than a little fearful of what might happen if my parents discovered what was going on. But since I was  _ chentana _ and the daughter of his employer, he couldn’t exactly forbid me from seeing Yixa if I wanted to. So she and I remained friends, and as I got older and began pulling away from my own family, I grew increasingly closer to hers.

 

***

 

I reached the cottage shortly before noon and stepped out into the clearing, damp leaves muffling the sound of my footsteps. Birds twittered overhead and a pair of  _ zumi _ scampered across the ground, chasing one another and chattering. The cottage walls looked the same as it had the day I first saw it. White smoke trailed out of its stone chimney. Kiro was probably boiling water for tea. Yixa’s garden was still mostly bare, although I could see a few green shoots poking out of the wet earth. Another month and the ground would be carpeted with  _ kaba _ plants, sandgrass, and various herbs, both for cooking and medicine. She always had a talent for making things grow.

 

I walked up to the front door and knocked. Kiro answered almost immediately. He must have been watching from the window.

 

“ _ Okanita _ ,” he said with a broad grin. “Good to see you.”

 

I smiled and gave him a hug. “Is she here?”

 

“Yes, yes,” he said, stepping back to let me through. “Come in and say hello.”

 

I crouched slightly as I stepped through the low doorway. The cottage was just one large room, about twenty meters long and five meters wide. At one end was the fireplace, Kiro’s bed, a small wooden table, and two rocking chairs. A larger wooden table and four chairs stood in the center of the room. At the other end of the cottage, partly concealed behind a wooden partition, was the double bed where Yixa and her husband Luca slept. It was a tiny house for three people to live in, but they used the space wisely.

 

As I came inside, I caught sight of Yixa sitting at the large table. She rose up from her chair, one hand resting on her huge belly. Her feet were bare and her long black hair was tied in a loose braid. She’d gained a bit of weight, but it was distributed evenly over her slender frame, giving her entire body a plump and rosy glow. She looked absolutely beautiful, and I felt a slight flicker of jealousy. Some things in life just weren’t fair.

 

“Come here, you  _ boola _ ,” she said, grinning. “Give me a hug. And don’t you dare say I’m fat.”

 

I laughed, came forward, and put my arms around her. She squeezed me tightly, her round belly pressing up against mine, and I was not surprised to feel tears in my eyes. This was where I belonged— here in this tiny, warm cottage, not in that big, lonely house on the hill.

 

“I guess congratulations are in order,” I said after we’d finally let go. “When are you due?”

 

“Next month.” She made a face. “I wish it was sooner. He never stops kicking.”

 

“It’s a boy?”

 

Yixa nodded, easing herself back down into her chair. “I’m positive. Luca thinks I’m crazy, but he knows better than to argue with me.”

 

I laughed again. Luca was the exact opposite of his wife— quiet, reserved, and extremely serious. I didn’t understand how two such different people could be so happily married, but it seemed to work for them. I also suspected Luca was probably far more relaxed when I wasn’t around. He’d never quite understood why Yixa was friends with a noblewoman, and was always rather stiff and formal when I came to visit.

 

“Tea, Tessa?” Kiro asked, going over to the fireplace and lifting the heavy copper kettle off its hook.

 

“Yes, please,” I answered, pulling up a chair next to Yixa. “Need any help?”

 

“No, no,” he said, setting the kettle on the table. “You are visiting.”

 

Yixa rolled her eyes. “He won’t let me help with anything, either. He’s worried I’ll fall down or scrape my knee or something.”

 

“It’s his first grandchild,” I pointed out. “He’s bound to be a little overprotective.”

 

“Luca’s even worse,” she said. “He won’t let me go near the  _ talagai _ , much less work on it. I said to him, ‘How can you work on it without me? Who’s going to tell you when you make a mistake?’ But he won’t budge.”

 

For years, Yixa and Luca had been working to build their own  _ talagai _ — a houseboat. Such a vessel was the definition of economic success and independence for  _ chakana _ on Reena. If you owned a houseboat, you didn’t have to rely on anyone else for employment, shelter, food, or transportation. You could be self-sustaining, taking what you needed from the sea and living where you pleased. Currently, Luca worked for one of the large fisheries in Reena City and spent most of his time on a huge commercial trawler, harvesting fish and other seafood to sell at the local markets. Yixa hated that he was gone so often, and desperately wanted the  _ talagai _ to be finished so he could quit his job and be with his family.

 

“It must be getting close to done by now,” I said.

 

Yixa shook her head. “I’m starting to think it’s never going to be done. We’ve had so many setbacks. Luca hurt his back last year, so he was out of work for months. Then this.” She gestured to her stomach. “They won’t let me help at all, even though I feel perfectly fine.”

 

“You need rest,” Kiro said calmly as he walked over to the table.

 

“I’m pregnant, Baba, not an invalid. I can do things for myself.”

 

“The boat is not going anywhere,” he said, setting two steaming mugs of tea in front of us. “One day it will be done, and then you will sail away with no more worries.”

 

“And when we do, you’ll be coming with us,” Yixa said. “Right?” she added, giving her father a stern look.

 

“Yes,  _ chi ninka _ ,” he said. “When the boat is done, I will sell the cottage and live with you. We have discussed this many times.”

 

“And yet somehow, I still don’t believe you,” Yixa said. She looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Can you see him retiring, Tessa? Be honest.”

 

I smiled. “Kiro, putting his feet up and letting someone else do the work? Not a chance.”

 

“I will,” he protested. “When the time is right, I will retire and let you take care of me. But for now, my daughter, I take care of you. That is the rule.”

 

Yixa dropped her stern expression and patted his arm. “Okay, Baba. That’s the rule. For now.”

 

Kiro leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then went back over to the fireplace. I felt another twinge of jealousy, but this time for a far less superficial reason. Kiro’s wife had died when Yixa was just two years old, leaving him to raise their daughter more or less on his own, and as a result, he and Yixa shared a close bond that I could never hope to have with my own father.

 

“So what’s this I hear about a trip?” Yixa asked, turning back to me. “Baba said you were going to Kathol.”

 

I nodded and took a sip of tea. “I’ll be gone for eighteen months, doing research for the university. And for the Empire, technically.”

 

“Your father must be thrilled,” she said with a wry grin.

 

“Oh, yes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “‘You can’t trust Imps, Tessa. What were you thinking, Tessa? You’re going to ruin your career, Tessa.’”

 

Yixa made a derisive noise. “What a  _ dooshma _ .”

 

“Yixa,” Kiro said warningly, but I just laughed.

 

“It’s true, Kiro,” I said. “You know it is.”

 

“Even so, he is still your father. You must not say such things.”

 

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

 

Kiro just shook his head and sighed. He was standing at the small work table next to the fireplace, slicing potatoes and tossing them into a large pot of water.

 

“Are you sure I can’t help with anything?” I asked.

 

“I am sure,  _ okanita _ ,” he said. “This is a time for visiting, not work.”

 

“I can visit while I work,” I countered.

 

“Baba, let her help,” Yixa said, exasperated. “She’s going to go crazy otherwise.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Kiro said, and brought over a bowl of  _ kaba _ pods. “Shell these.”

 

I dumped the pods on the table. Yixa and I both grabbed handfuls and began popping out the dark purple beans one by one. A deep contentment settled over me, as it always did when she and I were together. It was as if no time had passed since our last visit.

 

"By the way,” Yixa said after a few moments, “you’ll never guess who I saw the other day.”

 

“Who?” I asked.

 

“Xani."   
  
"Really?" I said, feeling a slight flutter in my stomach. "What's he been up to?"   
  
"He bought the Gloil last autumn."   
  
"What?" I exclaimed. "I didn't think he had any ambition."   
  
"Oh, he's still a total layabout," Yixa said. "He tends bar, then gets drunk, gambles his money away, goes home and passes out. He's still just as good-looking, though. You should go down there and pay him a visit."   
  
I shook my head. "I doubt he'd want to see me."   
  
"Are you kidding? It would be the highlight of his day.” Yixa grinned a bit crookedly. “I’m sure he'd be happy to salt your deck."   
  
"Yixa!" Kiro exclaimed. "For shame."   
  


I burst out laughing, recalling the look of horror on Kiro’s face when he caught me kissing Xani, who at that time was working for my family as a landscaper, behind the toolshed when I was seventeen. Kiro never told my parents, but that was more for his and Xani’s sake than mine. My father would have fired both of them if he’d found out.

  
"Oh, lighten up, Baba,” Yixa said. “I'm a married woman now. I have to live vicariously.”

 

Kiro just shook his head and went back to slicing potatoes.

 

“Believe me,” I said once I’d recovered, “you're not missing much. I'd trade lives with you in a second.”

 

“No, you wouldn't,” Yixa said flatly. “You'd be bored within a day.”

 

“Maybe.” I looked around the small cottage, at the copper kettle hanging over the fire pit, the cords of dried fish hanging from the ceiling, the pile of rain boots by the door. “Maybe not. You don't know how lucky you are. I used to be so jealous of you growing up.”

 

“Not as jealous as I was,” she said, smiling a bit wistfully. “You always had such beautiful dresses. I wanted that blue one more than anything.”

 

“And I wanted your hair,” I said. “I used to hate mine.”

 

She laughed. “Silly girl, wanting boring, black  _ chakana  _ hair.”

 

“Your hair is beautiful.”

 

“But it's so ordinary.”

 

“That’s why I like it.” I finished shelling the last pod. “Beans are ready, Kiro.”

 

“Very good,” he said, coming back over and taking the bowl. “Lunch will be ready in about half an hour.”

 

“While we’re waiting, I have something for you,” I said to Yixa, leaning over and reaching into my bag. 

 

“Uh-oh,” she said. “What did you do?”

 

“Nothing,” I said innocently. I brought out the box I’d bought at the holotech shop and set it on the table in front of her. “Open it.”

 

She tore off the paper wrapping and let out a gasp. “A holorecorder!”

 

“Yes,” I said. “When the baby comes, you can make as many images and recordings as you want.”

 

Yixa half-stood up and hugged me across the table. “That’s so thoughtful,” she said, sitting back down. “I won’t be able to send them to you, though. We don’t have access to the holonet.”

 

“I know,” I said, taking out a second box. “That’s why I got you this.”

 

Yixa unwrapped the package, but this time she looked confused instead of excited. “What is it?” she asked.

 

“A subspace transceiver,” I said. “It lets you send signals over long distances.”

 

She shook her head. “Tessa, this is too expensive. You can’t spend this much on us.”

 

“I agree,” Kiro said, coming over and examining the boxes.

 

“It’s not just for you,” I said. “It’s for me, too. I’m tired of only being able to see you once every few years. With this, we’ll be able to send communications back and forth anytime.”

 

“You’ll be halfway across the galaxy,” Yixa pointed out. “This thing can’t send signals that far.”

 

“No, but I’ll be on Imperial ships most of the time,” I explained. “They have very advanced systems. I won’t be able to talk to you in real time, but I can get messages. As soon as I know the frequency codes, I’ll send them to you.”

 

Yixa looked up at her father. “What do you think, Baba?”

 

“I don’t know,” he said hesitantly. “It is a big gift,  _ okanita _ .”

 

“Please,” I said. “You’ve done so much for me. This is my way of saying thank you. Just think, Kiro― you’ll be able to make recordings of your grandson. And I’ll be able to communicate with you, no matter how far away I am.”

 

Kiro was silent, considering. Then slowly, he nodded.

 

“Okay,” he said. “If it’s that important to you.”

 

Yixa got up from her chair and threw her arms around me. “Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling. “You don’t know how much this means to us.”

 

I felt a lump in my throat. “You’re welcome,” I managed to say. 

 

Kiro tactfully withdrew back to his work table and resumed chopping and slicing. After a few long moments, Yixa let go of me and sat back down.

 

“Okay, you  _ boola _ ,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Show me how this thing works.”

  
  


***

 

I left the cottage a few hours later in high spirits, pleased with how the day had gone. The sun was setting as I walked into the city, and a thick mist was rising from the ground, swirling through the air, giving the street lanterns a hazy orange glow. By the time I reached Mrs. Neru’s shop, I was able to see my breath again. It would be a cold night.

 

Mrs. Neru had the dress ready as promised, and made me try it on again to make sure nothing needed adjustment. Once she was satisfied, I left the shop and headed for the temple, the garment bag slung over my shoulder. It was only half-past five, but it was always better to be early than late where my mother was concerned.

 

Ganshara Temple was an ancient building, nearly eight hundred years old. Its weathered stone walls were covered with dark green moss and its tiled roof was in desperate need of patching. For years my father had been promising to put in a restoration request with the High Council, but other issues always seemed to take priority.

 

I walked slowly up to the temple’s main entrance, my good mood rapidly evaporating and a stiff resolve taking its place. I would not rise to my mother’s bait tonight, nor my father’s. I would attend the funeral, be as pleasant as possible to all the petty, gossipy relatives, and keep myself sane by remembering that I was leaving for Tralee Base tomorrow evening. I only had to make it through one more day. I pulled open the door and stepped inside, glad to be out of the rain.

 

Like all Z’hendan temples, Ganshara was built in the shape of a wheel, with the  _ duma,  _ or central chamber, serving as the hub and primary place of worship. The “spokes” were six long hallways that branched out from the  _ duma  _ and connected with the building’s outer ring, which housed several smaller chambers and living quarters for the temple priests, or  _ shonai _ . 

 

I took off my cloak, careful not to let it drip on the hardwood floor, and hung it on a peg next to the entrance. If I remembered correctly, the kitchens were somewhere near the northeast hallway. I turned to my right and began walking up the ring, inhaling familiar odors― blackwood incense, furniture polish, musty drapes. It had been years since I’d attended temple, but I could still remember the soft leather covers of the prayer books, the bitter taste of ceremonial wine, the sound of a hundred voices singing the  _ xai ma chen _ . I used to spend a lot of time here, especially after Tam died. Sometimes it seemed as though it was the only safe place left in the world.

 

The kitchen was full of noise and delicious smells. Una was standing at the long wooden counter rolling out bread dough into large sheets, while the caterer, a bald man with a huge belly, slashed the dough into strips and dusted each one with flour. It looked like they were making  _ kaloki _ , although these pastries would likely have less grease and fancier filling than the one I’d eaten this morning. Nobles didn’t like to be reminded that some of their favorite foods were invented by commoners, so whenever a  _ chakana  _ dish was served to nobility, it was made to look and taste slightly different than the original.

 

“Good evening, my lady,” Una said, stepping out from the behind the counter and bowing respectfully. The caterer did the same, his belly jiggling under his apron.

 

“Good evening,” I replied, bowing in return. “Is my mother here?”

 

“She’s with Shonai Kellan, I think.”

 

“Of course she is,” I said, suppressing a grin. The shonai had always been a bit taken with my mother, and although I would never dare to broach the subject with her, I suspected that the feeling was mutual.

 

I exited the kitchen and went back out into the main ring. Kellan’s office was located at the northernmost point of the temple, just a few paces away from where I currently stood. I walked down the hall until I reached the open door, and then paused. I could see the shonai sitting at his desk, leaning forward as he spoke to Mama, who was sitting in the chair opposite him with her back to me. They seemed to be having an intense discussion, although I was too far away to hear what they were saying. I waited for a few moments, decided that there was no way to interrupt gracefully, and then went up to the door, clearing my throat loudly to announce my presence.

 

Kellan’s head jerked up. Seeing me standing in the doorway, he immediately rose to his feet. My mother twisted around in her chair, looking startled.

 

“Tessalyn,” she said. “You’re early.” Her voice was even, but her face was slightly flushed and she avoided looking directly at me. 

 

“Mrs. Neru finished the dress sooner than I expected,” I said, keeping my expression neutral. “Good evening, Shonai.”

 

“Lady Tessa,” Kellan said, stepping out from behind his desk to greet me. “Good to see you again.” 

 

He smiled, but I could see tension in his face. I wished there was a way to tell him that I didn’t care one bit if he had feelings for my mother. Instead, I reached out and shook his hand.

 

“Good to see you as well,” I said. “Are you leading the service tonight?”

 

“I am,” he said. “Your mother was just explaining the details to me.”

 

“But we’re finished now,” Mama said, and got up from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on the caterer.” Leaning heavily on her cane, she walked out of the office and back towards the kitchen.

 

“Are you visiting long?” Kellan asked as we followed her.

 

I shook my head. “I leave tomorrow night.”

 

“On an expedition, I hear.”

 

“Yes, to Kathol.”

 

“How exciting,” he said, almost wistfully. “I wish I was still young enough to make such a journey.”

 

I’d forgotten how much I liked Shonai Kellan. Z’hendan temples were one of only a few places in Tapani culture where commoner and noble could serve in equal capacity (the military was another) so even though Kellan was born and raised  _ chakana _ , he could move freely between both groups without inciting the usual grumbling from either one. He’d also spent most of his career preaching inclusion and acceptance, efforts that eventually earned him the nickname  _ Baba Manuni _ , or “Father of Peace.” The title was well-deserved― his reasoned arguments and quiet strength could convince even the most stubborn person to consider a different point of view. The priest was in his mid-fifties now, although he didn’t look it. His dark brown hair and beard had only a hint of grey, and he still boasted the broad-shouldered, muscular build typical of  _ chakana _ men. I didn’t blame my mother in the slightest for being attracted to him. If he were twenty years younger, I probably would be, too.

 

“Have you traveled much, Shonai?” I asked as we began walking down the northeast hallway towards the  _ duma _ .

 

“Not much,” he said. “I went to Coruscant once. That was enough.”

 

I laughed. “Too crowded for you?”

 

“Far too crowded,” he said. “The sky is so full of ships, you can barely see the stars.”

 

“That won’t be the case where I’m going,” I said. “You can travel in the Kathol Outback for days and never see another ship.”

 

“I hope you will be careful,” he said. “Your mother seems rather worried.”

 

“She always worries,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

 

“That is because she cares,” he said calmly.

 

I had no answer to that. People like Kellan always saw the best in others, no matter how much evidence there was to the contrary.

 

We reached the  _ duma  _ and the shonai turned to me. “I must prepare for the ceremony,” he said. “I will see you afterwards, I hope?”

 

“I’ll be here.”

 

Kellan smiled, then turned and went into the chamber, leaving me standing in the doorway. I watched him walk into the  _ boguda _ , a small, domed structure in the middle of the room, and close the door behind him. Priests often used the  _ boguda _ as a place of retreat and meditation, especially right before a ceremony. Once inside, Kellan would probably light some incense, don his formal robes, and review his notes for the eulogy. I wondered what he was going to say― or rather, what Mama had told him to say. Aunt Maeve was a fairly prominent member of the community, but as far as I knew, she hadn’t really done much in her eighty-nine years. She’d never had children, never held a job, never gone to university, never traveled off-world. What could you say about someone who had led such a small life?

 

I felt suddenly depressed. Why had I allowed myself to be guilted into attending this meaningless ceremony? Aunt Maeve wouldn’t have cared if I was here, and her family wouldn’t either. In fact, most people attending tonight would probably rather be somewhere else. It was all a charade, like everything else in  _ chentana  _ society. What was the point in playing along if you already knew how it would end?

 

To distract myself, I went back to the kitchens. Mama was still there, leaning heavily on her cane, watching Una dropping the now-finished  _ kaloki  _ pastries into a vat of boiling oil. Behind her, the caterer was slicing thick wedges of cream-colored cheese and arranging them in circles on a large tin platter.

 

“You need to change,” Mama said as I came in. “Use the bathroom on the second floor. It has better lighting. And be sure to put some powder on your face. You’re so tanned, you might as well be a  _ talana _ .”

 

The caterer glanced up briefly, a slight frown creasing his forehead. I avoided his eyes, trying not to cringe with embarrassment. Sometimes Mama had no idea just how snobbish she sounded.  _ Talana  _ was not technically an insult― it was the Tapani word for “sailor”― but since most nobles looked down upon that profession, it might as well have been. At least she hadn’t said  _ ji bansa _ , which was one of the most insulting terms for Reenan commoners that a noble could use. It literally meant “salt-licker,” and in certain situations, hurling that particular slur could lead to blows. I’d seen it happen once outside the Gloil, the  _ chakana  _ pub that Xani now owned, and had no desire to see it again.

 

“It’s still two hours until the ceremony,” I said. “I don’t need to change just yet.”

 

“Fine,” Mama sighed, evidently too tired to argue. “Then you can supervise in here. I need to rest my feet.”

 

“Okay.” 

 

“Make sure those pastries are properly chilled,” she called over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

 

“Yes, Mama.”

 

Once the sound of her footsteps had faded, I turned to Una and the caterer. “Do you have an extra apron?” I asked.

 

The caterer looked startled. “An apron, miss?”

 

“Yes. There’s a lot of work to do. No sense in me just sitting around.”

 

He looked at Una, his expression incredulous, and I half-expected him to laugh at me. Most  _ chakana  _ did when I offered to help them with a task. It wasn’t mean-spirited laughter― they simply couldn’t believe a noble would ever want to do something like wash dishes, clean floors, pull weeds, or carry water. It was a long time before Kiro let me help him and Yixa with the chores, and he only relented after I pestered him half a dozen times.

 

“She likes to help,” Una said, as though she felt a need to explain my odd behavior.

 

The caterer glanced back at me, and I saw a grin tug at his mouth. “I’ll look in the speeder,” he said, and stumped out the back door.

 

I sidled up to Una, who was still frying the  _ kaloki _ , feeling a little nervous. The cook liked things done a certain way and had very little patience for slow learners. Many times Mama had offered to hire extra kitchen help, but Una always refused. “More trouble than it’s worth,” she would say.

 

For a few moments, Una ignored me, and I was suddenly afraid she was going to kick me out of the kitchen as she’d done so many times when I was a child. Then the cook let out a huffy sigh.

 

“Put those on trays,” she said, jerking her head at the far end of the counter, where the finished  _ kaloki  _ were cooling on wire racks. “Ten by ten, a few centimeters apart. Then put them in the fridge.”

 

“Yes, Una,” I said, hiding my smile. Quickly I moved to her other side and began transferring the fried pastries to the metal trays. A few seconds later, the caterer returned with the apron I had asked for. I thanked him, looped it around my neck, and tied the straps behind my back. Clothes now protected, I continued working, feeling my tension ease a little. Keeping busy, I’d found, was the best way to combat nerves.

 

By the time seven o’clock rolled around, all the  _ kaloki  _ were sitting in neat rows on trays inside the refrigerator, each one garnished with spiced jam and a sprig of  _ apati _ , a pungent Reenan herb. Other trays held cubes of smoked meat, cheese wedges, chocolate wafers, candied  _ momoto _ slices, salted nuts, fresh berries― all food that could easily be eaten with one hand and no utensils. Looking at it all made my stomach growl. I should have eaten more at Kiro’s, but I’d been distracted with all the socializing. Now it would be another two hours before I could eat anything.

 

I’d just started wiping down the counters when I heard the back door open, but I didn’t bother looking up. It was probably Una taking out the garbage, or the caterer taking equipment out to his speeder. 

 

Instead, I heard a familiar voice― deep and rumbling, almost a growl. “Delivery for Yuri.”

 

I whipped around, and my stomach turned over. It was Xani.

 

He was standing in the doorway holding a crate of wine bottles, his purple skin glistening from the rain. He was wearing a sleeveless leather tunic, his arms just as firm and muscled as I remembered. Yixa was right. He was still just as good-looking.

 

Xani gazed around the kitchen, taking in the sight of Una washing dishes, the caterer packing away his knives, and me standing at the counter. His eyes widened when he saw me, but as always, he was quick on the recovery. He tilted his head to the side and a smile spread over his face― a slow, calculating smile that made my heart beat a little faster.

 

“You’re late,” Una said shortly, pointing to an empty section of counter. “You can set up over there. I trust you brought your own supplies?”

 

“That I did,” Xani said, stepping through the doorway. “A portable bar, plenty of glasses, and enough booze to keep them all drunk for a week.”

 

“Good,” Una said, putting her hands back into the soapy dishwater. “Get to it, then.”

 

Xani walked across the kitchen floor and set the crate down on the counter, still grinning. He was only half Zabrak, so his features weren't nearly as pronounced as that of his full-blooded father, but he still had the crown of horns, pointed teeth, and distinctive skin patterns typical of the males of his species. As he turned back, his yellow eyes fell on me again. They traveled up and down my body, lingering on my breasts and making my stomach prickle.

 

“I could use some help unloading,” he said to no one in particular.

 

“Of course,” I said evenly, setting down my sponge. “I’d be glad to.”

 

Una frowned as I passed her, but said nothing. She was probably going to tell my mother as soon as she got the chance, but I shoved the thought away. If she wanted to tattle, let her. It wouldn’t make any difference. I felt my temper flaring up again, as it always did when I came home, and with it the desire―no, the  _ need _ ― to shock, to rebel, to turn my parents’ perfectly ordered world upside down.

 

I followed Xani out the back door and down the short wooden ramp that led into the pebbled driveway. The rain was a welcome relief from the kitchen’s boiling heat, and I inhaled deeply, cold air searing my throat and lungs.

 

“Well,” Xani said, once we were a good distance away. “This is a surprise. What brings you back to Reena?”

 

“It’s my great aunt’s funeral.”

 

“My sympathies,” he said, the smile still playing around his lips. He knew the charade just as well as I did.

 

“No sympathy required,” I said dryly.

 

We reached his speeder and Xani opened the rear hatch. “We’ll stack them on there,” he said, nodding at the hoversled sitting beside the speeder. He picked up a wine crate and handed it to me. I took it and placed it carefully on the sled.

 

“I heard you bought the Gloil,” I said after a few moments.

 

“That Yixa,” he said, grinning. “Such a gossip. Yes, I bought it last autumn.”

 

“ _Hai nuchi jai_. How’s business?”

 

“Slow,” he said. “That’s why I took this job.”

 

“You’re tending bar tonight?” I asked, a sudden bubble of hope rising inside my chest.

 

“That I am,” he said. “I will be here for the entire night, drowning your relatives’ sorrow in  _ budori  _ and saltwine.”

 

Warm excitement trickled through my belly. He was going to be here all night, just a stone’s throw away from me. And when the funeral was over― well, who knew what might happen.

 

“I’ll make sure they tip well,” I said.

 

“Thanks,” Xani said, grinning. “And if they don’t, there are other forms of compensation we can discuss.”

 

I returned his grin, my face growing pleasantly warm. It was so easy to slip back into it― the quick banter, the sly innuendo, the inside jokes. Even the way our bodies moved together was effortless, the crates passing from his arms to mine in perfect rhythm. 

 

In no time at all we had stacked all the crates on the sled. Then Xani unhooked the portable bar, encased in a plastic sleeve, from the side of the speeder and hoisted it effortlessly onto his shoulder. In doing so, his shirt raised up slightly, and I caught a glimpse of his stomach. I stared at the flat, hard muscles, remembering how much I used to love running my hands over his body, tracing the curve of his bicep, brushing my fingers against his nipples.

 

Xani caught me looking and grinned. “Would you mind handling the sled?” he asked, his voice almost a purr. “My hands are full.”

 

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and began pushing the hoversled up the driveway. He followed close behind me, the bar balanced on his shoulder, and with every step I took, I felt his eyes on me.

 

When we reached the kitchen door, I parked the hoversled next to the ramp and turned to him. “The ceremony’s in less than an hour,” I said. “I need to change.”

 

“Into a pretty dress, I hope.”

 

“Not that pretty,” I said. “It’s a funeral, after all.”

 

“No reason you can’t look your best,” he said, setting his load down. “Pay me a visit afterwards. I’ll buy you a drink.”

 

“Deal,” I said, and then turned quickly and walked up the ramp, back into the steamy kitchen.


	6. Adaptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The senior staff gather for the morning briefing, and Governor Tarkin throws a wrench in Thrawn’s plans.

Despite my exhaustion, I did not sleep well. Memories kept intruding, forcing their way into my mind, keeping me on the brink between sleeping and waking. At first they were of Tessa― her lovely smile, the curve of her hips, the red luster of her hair― but eventually my thoughts drifted back to Zala. My beloved wife, the woman who knew every part of me, every flaw, every vulnerability. My mind traveled backwards across time and space, remembering bits and pieces, shattered remnants of the life we’d made together. Our wedding day, her eyes full of quiet joy as we approached one another. Reuniting after months apart, folding her into my arms, never wanting to let go. The shape of her sleeping beside me, blue-black hair spread across the pillow. The sound of her breathing. I missed that most of all― those soft, steady whispers of air, in and out, rising and falling, providing constant reassurance that she was safe and nearby.

 

I’d gone on undercover missions for the Ascendancy before, but never had accepted one with such a long duration and so little chance of success. Even if I did succeed, it would take years, perhaps even the rest of my life, to gather adequate information. I could not bear the thought of Zala waiting for me all that time, clinging to an ever-fading hope that I might someday return. Asking her to do such a thing was not just unreasonable, it was cruel. She could easily find someone else, someone who would never leave her, someone who could give her the things I could not. And so when she turned to me that night and asked the question, her eyes full of both fear and faint hope, I chose the answer that would hurt her the least.

 

As a soldier, I’d experienced many kinds of pain. Physical pain― broken bones, torn muscles, puncture wounds, blaster burns. Emotional pain― seeing comrades die in battle, listening to the screams of civilians caught in the crossfire, witnessing both guilty and innocent beings succumb to torture. But none of that could have prepared me for the pain of leaving my wife behind. It was a constant ache inside my chest― sometimes dull, sometimes sharp, but always there. Most days I bore it gladly, knowing without a doubt that I had made the right decision. Some days I merely endured, burying myself in my work, ignoring the ache, pushing it aside as I did with everything that was beyond my control. Other days I raged against it, cursing whatever madness had taken hold of my mind and made me embark upon this foolhardy mission. Occasionally I wallowed in self-pity, nursing that small, ugly part of myself that envied Zala’s freedom. It was bitterly unfair that she could continue on without me, building a new life while I spent the rest of mine surrounded by humans who looked at me with nothing but fear and suspicion.

 

The worst days of all were when I convinced myself that despite everything I’d put her through, despite her own pain and suffering, Zala was still waiting for me. It was a dangerous thought, not to mention idiotic, but I couldn’t seem to stop it from surfacing every so often. At the beginning of my mission, I’d been hopeful that I might find someone― maybe not to start a life with, but to at least ease the pain of being alone. That illusion shattered when I realized that the xenophobia I encountered at Royal Imperial Academy was largely representative of the Empire as a whole. Since there was little chance of finding companionship within Imperial circles, and almost no time to cultivate relationships outside of them, I continued clinging to the vain, foolish notion that someday I might return home and find my wife right where I’d left her, ready to resume the life we’d had before.

 

There were options, I knew. Places one could go, services one could render when the loneliness became too much to bear. It was a benefit of being in the higher ranks, an unspoken agreement between the men and women who had risen to the top of the Imperial chain. An understanding of our predicament. Of course we would need release every now and again. What other choices did we have, short of becoming intimate with a subordinate? There were those who did, of course. Violating regulations, taking advantage. Justifying, rationalizing, as much to themselves as to others. A few even boasted about it, as if it was something to be proud of. But most simply sought comfort elsewhere, by whatever means they could.

 

I recalled one fleet admiral, slightly drunk at a social gathering, leaning towards me with a conspiratorial smile.  _ If you’re ever in the mood for some company, call this number. Ask for so and so. Very discreet.  _ I had taken the data card he handed me, but never called. There was the army colonel, standing far too close, his hand brushing mine as we reviewed tactical reports.  _ If you like… I know a place we can go. _ That one was harder to resist, but I ultimately declined. The rest of the galaxy might be open-minded regarding such matters, but the Imperial military was not. There was no point in putting our careers at risk for something that would provide only brief respite.

 

Finally, I gave up trying to sleep. I rolled over on my back and gazed up at the dark ceiling, breathing deeply in and out, trying to clear my mind of all distractions. I needed my focus here and now, not on past events that had no relevance to the current situation.

 

My alarm went off at 0530. I shut it off and sat up, feeling the joints in my spine crack as I stretched. Slowly I rose from the bunk, walked over to the fresher unit, and splashed cold water on my face and neck. Slightly more awake, I pulled on a pair of trousers and an undershirt, and walked out into the living room.

 

Blip was still asleep, although hanging from a different branch this time. I crept across the carpet, taking care not to make a sound. He didn’t wake, just let out a tiny sigh and twitched his tail.

 

I reached the end of the room and slipped on my boots, then pressed the button for the turbolift. After a brief moment, the doors opened and I stepped inside.

 

As always, my office was dark and silent at this early hour. I walked across the floor towards my sparring gym, which was located on the opposite side of the room. The doors slid open with a hiss and I stepped through.

 

It was very quiet inside the gym. The two sentry droids I used for combat training were standing at the opposite end of the room, their metal faces staring blankly into space. I reached upwards, my fingertips nearly touching the ceiling, stretching the muscles in my chest and shoulders. Then I lowered my arms and began walking along the wall, evaluating the weapons hanging there. After some deliberation, I chose a stout wooden staff about five centimeters in diameter. I swung it a few times, getting a feel for its weight and balance. Then I set it down and leaned it carefully against the wall.

 

I stood quite still, head bowed, breathing deeply, and summoned all the emotions I’d experienced over the past twenty-four hours― anger, frustration, grief, lust, guilt, loneliness. I brought them all to the surface of my mind and for a few moments, allowed myself to fully feel them. I let them seethe and boil inside my brain, building up to a crescendo, then pushed outwards all at once, shunting white-hot energy into my arms and legs and hands. I picked up the staff and stepped into the center of the room, facing the sentry droids.

 

“Resume program from last stop,” I said. “Authorization code  _ Zala _ .”

 

The droids’ eyes flickered to life and both of them strode towards me. The one on my left raised its arm to strike, but I reached up and slammed my hand against the flat metal, blocking the blow, then pushed hard, shoving it away from me. The droid staggered backwards as the other lunged forward and threw a punch at my head. I leapt out of the way, adrenaline surging through my body, heart pounding, fingers tingling. I gripped one end of the staff with both hands, keeping my knees bent, and swung outward with all my strength. The staff hit the droid’s shoulder with a resounding  _ clang _ . The vibration traveled all the way up into my elbows and shoulders, making my teeth rattle. Ignoring the pain, I pressed the attack, dealing more blows as I moved forward. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the first droid get to its feet and come towards me once again. I whirled around and gave it a swift kick, knocking it off balance, and then resumed fighting the other.

 

Thirty minutes later, I was drenched in sweat and my muscles were aching, but my head was finally clear. I ended the program, wiped down the staff carefully with a dry cloth, and placed it back on the wall. Then I went back up to my quarters to shower and change.

  
  


***

 

“Good morning, Admiral,” Neesha cried when I entered the dining room at 0630. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“Quite well, thank you,” I lied, taking my seat at the head of the table and pouring a glass of juice. “And you?”

 

“Very well,” she said cheerfully. “One of many excellent qualities about Aleenas― we only need about three hours of sleep a night. I’ve been up since four.”

 

“That is quite useful,” I agreed, spooning scrambled eggs onto my plate. “I myself require at least five hours.”

 

“Maybe  _ I _ should be Admiral, then,” she said, and cackled. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

 

“It would, indeed,” I said gravely. “However, it would be a terrible loss to the culinary world.”

 

“True,” she agreed. “Perhaps I should stick to what I know best. How are the eggs?”

 

“Superb.”

 

“Oh, good,” she said happily. “I added a pinch of riso powder this time. I find it gives them a little zing.”

 

“It does,” I said. “As always, you are an artist.”

 

“Oh, you,” she said, beaming. “I’ll be right back.” She bustled off into the galley, the large steel door swinging shut behind her.

 

Because tactical briefings were so early in the morning, I had decided to conduct them over breakfast in the officers’ dining room. Some might argue such an approach was less efficient, as it took focus away from the meeting itself, but I had found the opposite to be true. There was a proclivity among many species, humans included, to treat communal meals as opportunities for socializing, and I wanted my senior staff to be as open and honest as possible when offering opinions and concerns. The dining room’s relaxed atmosphere created a more natural flow of conversation, an invitation to discuss, collaborate, exchange. In addition, it provided a chance to refuel and relax before beginning another long, grueling day.

 

I sipped my juice, wondering how Lieutenant Balik had fared on her first night here. Usually a member of the senior staff or bridge crew showed new officers around the ship on the first day, making introductions, explaining procedures, and so on, but it had been so late in the afternoon when Balik arrived that there wasn’t enough time for a proper tour. Hopefully Lieutenant Petra had introduced her to a few key individuals after she’d gotten settled into her new quarters.

 

“You haven’t finished your eggs,” Neesha said.

 

I glanced down. The chef was standing at my elbow, looking up at me disapprovingly.

 

“Not yet,” I said. “But I will.”

 

“You said the same thing yesterday. I don’t believe you.”

 

I sighed, pulled the plate of eggs towards me, and took a bite. “Satisfied?” I asked after I’d swallowed.

 

“Yes,” Neesha said happily. “Have some bacon, too. And a biscuit.”

 

“Is she pushing food on you again, Admiral?”

 

We both looked up to see Captain Karyn Faro standing in the doorway, an amused expression on her face. The  _ Chimaera _ ’s second-in-command was always early to every tactical briefing― partly because it was her nature to over-prepare, and partly to prove she could keep up with me.

 

“She never stops,” I said dryly, tilting my head towards Neesha, who was positively beaming at Faro.

 

“Captain,” she cried. “A good morning to you. How did you sleep?”

 

“Same as always,” Faro said, striding into the room and sitting down on my right. “Like a log.”  _ She pours a cup of tea and stirs it with a spoon, her movements quick yet precise. _

 

“You work too hard,” Neesha chided. “You both do.”

 

“And you don’t?” Faro countered.

 

“Of course I do,” Neesha said, grinning hugely. “But I have fun, too. Those have no dairy,” she added, pointing to the platter of biscuits in the center of the table.

 

“Right,” Faro said, taking one. She dunked the biscuit into her mug of tea, held it there until it softened, and then took a small bite.

 

“Good?” Neesha said, watching her.

 

Faro chewed and swallowed. Then she nodded. “Very good, thanks.”

 

“Excellent,” the chef said, clapping her tiny hands. “I’ll be right back. The potatoes are nearly done.” She bustled off again.

 

“You know, Imperial chefs are quieter,” Faro said once Neesha had left the room.

 

“True,” I replied. “But they are far less talented.”

 

“Can’t argue with that,” she said, taking another bite of biscuit. “She’s the only chef I’ve met who can make dairy-free taste good.”

 

I picked up my datapad and resumed reading reports, but continued observing Faro out of the corner of my eye. The two of us were still getting to know one another, so I used every opportunity to glean as much information about my second as I could. What I’d learned so far was intriguing. Faro was from Coruscant, but unlike most Imperial officers from the Core worlds, she didn’t come from money. Her mother was a school teacher, her father an air taxi driver. Both parents had worked hard to ensure their children would have brighter futures than themselves, and Faro seemed to have taken that deeply to heart. She had fought her way up the Imperial chain of command without any of the usual political or financial connections, and consequently had little patience for officers who put more stock into where people came from than what they were capable of accomplishing on their own merits.

 

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Faro asked after a minute or two.

 

“A slight change regarding our mission to Kathol,” I replied. “As well as introducing our new science officer.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Faro said.  _ A frown creases her forehead and her jaw tightens, indicating disapproval.  _ “Lieutenant Balik. I met her last night.”

 

“What was your impression?”

 

“Very brusque,” she said. “Not the least bit friendly.”

 

“As I recall, neither were you when we first met.”

 

A wry smile touched Faro’s lips. “That was different, sir,” she said. “You were taking over my ship. I didn’t know if I could trust you with her.”

 

I nodded slowly, remembering how difficult it had been for Faro to adjust to my presence aboard the  _ Chimaera _ . She’d been captain for nearly a year before I arrived, and was accustomed to doing things her own way. She wasn’t pleased to learn that an Admiral was taking over command, and even less pleased when she realized just how different I was from others of my rank. Faro was extremely intelligent, but like most Imperial commanders, she had been taught to use brute force as the solution to most problems. She did not understand my fascination with art or how it informed my approach to combat, and for the first month or so, she was highly impatient and critical of my tactical decisions. However, after our victory at Botajef, her skepticism decreased somewhat. Evidently that encounter had convinced her that at least some of my ideas were worth considering.

 

“And now?” I asked after a pause. “Have I proved myself worthy of your trust?”

 

_ Faro hesitates, then lifts her head and looks right into my eyes, a gesture many officers still have difficulty making.  _ “Yes, sir,” she said simply. “You have.”

 

“I appreciate it,” I said evenly. “Please know that you have my trust as well.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Faro said.  _ She looks away and lifts her mug to her lips, hiding her face behind a cloud of curling steam. She is embarrassed by my comment, but also pleased. I have given her something rare, something only a handful of people in the Empire have ever earned. _

 

I dropped my eyes down to my datapad, trying to spare her any further awkwardness. It was the first time Faro had openly acknowledged the hostility she’d expressed towards me and I didn’t want her to regret doing so. Luckily, our chief tactical officer, Senior Lieutenant Theran Orbo, arrived just a few moments later, providing a welcome distraction.

 

A tall, thin man with light brown skin and dark features, Orbo had a thoughtful, measured way of speaking and never hesitated to question a decision, no matter the rank of the person making it. This tendency had gotten him into trouble with his previous commander, a Commander Bartow, who took great offense to a junior officer challenging his authority. He’d had Orbo transferred to the  _ Chimaera _ three months ago, presumably as punishment for insubordination, but Orbo didn’t seem perturbed. In fact, he once told me that the transfer was the best thing that could have happened to him. “I always had to hold myself back before,” he explained. “Now I can barely keep up. It’s great.” Faro and I were equally pleased to have him on the bridge. The lieutenant was both intensely focused and highly relaxed, handling every combat situation with the detached stoicism of a B’omarr monk.

 

“Admiral,” Orbo said, taking the seat opposite Faro.  _ The skin underneath his eyes is slightly puffy, suggesting he has had little sleep. _

 

“Lieutenant,” I greeted him. “How are you this morning?”

 

“A bit tired, sir,” he said. “Practice went later than usual.”

 

For the past several months, a small group of crewmen had been trying to start a scrak band, but since none of them could play the mandoviol, which was a key component of the genre, they hadn’t made much progress. Consequently, when they heard Orbo was skilled in that particular instrument, they lost no time in recruiting him to their cause.

 

“You have been rehearsing for some time now,” I said. “I trust you will be treating us to a performance soon?”

 

_ A grin unfolds on Orbo’s face. He is pleased, both with his progress and the fact that I have taken an interest.  _ “We’re nearly there, sir,” he said. “Another week or so and we should be ready to humiliate ourselves in public.”

 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Faro said dryly. “We could all do with a laugh.”

 

Orbo’s grin widened. “Sure you won’t join us, Captain? We need an emcee.”

 

“No thanks,” she said. “Have Moran do it. He’d jump at the chance to be onstage.”

 

“Good idea,” Orbo said. “I’ll ask him.”

 

Lieutenant Caddi Enzler arrived next. A tiny, pale-skinned woman with a shock of frizzy brown hair, Enzler was shy and soft spoken during meetings, often preferring to let others speak first before offering an opinion. When she was called upon to give a report, she usually read from a stack of prepared notes so as not to forget anything. When it came to combat, however, she was anything but reticent. Out of all the senior officers, Enzler logged the most hours in the ship’s shooting range, and Captain Faro had told me that the lieutenant’s accuracy rivaled that of Imperial snipers.

 

“Enzler,” Faro said. “Just the woman I wanted to see.”

 

“Oh?” Enzler said.  _ The muscles in her arms and shoulders become stiff, indicating tension _ . As chief of operations, Enzler managed the majority of the  _ Chimaera _ ’s systems, which meant that if something broke, it was her job either to fix it or find someone who could, whether the problem was a malfunctioning turbolift, a damaged sensor array, or a clogged toilet. As a result, she was kept busy nearly every moment of the day, and anytime someone mentioned that they needed her assistance, she became instantly tense, anticipating yet another mess to clean up.

 

“Orbo’s band needs a space to perform,” Faro said. “Is the Deck One canteen available?”

 

_ Enzler’s face relaxes and her muscles loosen, indicating relief. There will be no clogged toilets to deal with, at least not for the moment.  _ “I think so,” she said, taking out her datapad. “When do you want it?”

 

“Let’s say a week from today,” Faro said, glancing at Orbo for confirmation. “If you’re not ready by then, you can always cancel.”

 

“All right,” he said. “Tell people to bring ear plugs.”

 

Enzler smiled. “No need for that,” she said. “I heard you play. It sounds quite good.”

 

“When did you hear them play?” I inquired.

 

“Last night, sir,” she said, turning to me. “Someone called security to complain about an unbelievably loud noise coming from the senior officers’ common room. Commander Brax and I went to check it out and found them practicing.”

 

“We weren’t that loud,” Orbo said, rolling his eyes.

 

“No, you weren’t,” Enzler agreed. “Moran probably called it in as a joke.”

 

“You guys talking about me?”

 

I glanced up. Major Durgo Moran had entered the room, grinning broadly as he surveyed the table and its occupants. Square, blond, and stocky, the major was in his early twenties and commanded the 72nd Legion, the  _ Chimaera _ ’s stormtrooper complement. Moran’s work ethic and leadership abilities were second to none, but he did have a tendency to play practical jokes on members of the crew, particularly new arrivals. Orbo had already been on the receiving end of one of his pranks, which involved stealing and reprogramming his code cylinder so he was unable to enter his quarters for several hours.

 

“Did you call in a noise disturbance last night?” Enzler asked.

 

“No,” Moran replied.

 

“You sure?” Orbo asked, cocking his head. “Seems like something you’d do.”

 

“I swear,” Moran said.  _ He holds up both hands, palms outward, a gesture of sincerity _ . “It wasn’t me.”

 

“Well, if you didn’t,” Enzler said, “then who did?”

 

Moran shrugged. “Could have been one of my guys. They probably thought it would be funny.”

 

“I have been meaning to speak to you about that, Major,” I interjected. “While we all appreciate the occasional boost to morale, too many pranks can distract and divert focus away from other important tasks. It would be wise to remind your troopers of that.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Moran said quickly.  _ The muscles in his shoulders tense and his heartbeat quickens. He is concerned, perhaps even fearful, that he has displeased his commander.  _ “I’m sorry, sir.”

 

“No need to apologize,” I said calmly. “As I said, the occasional prank is not unwelcome. I merely ask that you ensure your men do not become overzealous in their practical joking.”

 

“Understood, sir,” Moran said. “I’ll tell them to tone it down.”  _ His body stance relaxes slightly and his heart rate decreases.  _ “Hey, where’s Neesha? I need to ask her something.”

 

“Here, Major,” Neesha cried, coming through the galley door with a dish of potatoes. “How can I help?”

 

“I need a cooking lesson,” Moran said, taking the dish from her and setting it on the table. “I got a lady friend on Thyferra who’s crazy about Calamarian cuisine. I promised I’d make her dinner, but I have no idea where to start.”

 

“Another lady friend?” Faro said, rolling her eyes. “Moran, when are you going to learn that quality is better than quantity?”

 

“Who says you can’t have both?” Moran said, grinning a bit crookedly. Then he turned back to Neesha. “So? Feel like helping me out?”

 

“Of course,” Neesha shouted. “Food is the key to love, I always say. We’ll have a lesson tomorrow.” She clapped her hands. “Right. That’s me finished. Have a good briefing, all of you. I’ll be in the hydroponics bay if you need me.”

 

Vanto arrived next, accompanied by Senior Lieutenant Sollin Grey. The chief engineer was talking animatedly as usual, his hands waving about as he explained some technical concept to Vanto, who looked slightly bewildered. Short, red-haired, and wiry, Grey was in his late twenties and was what most people referred to as a “spacer”― an individual born and raised on starships, hardly ever setting foot on solid ground. Grey had spent his entire life living and working on ships and already knew a great deal before enrolling at Corulag Academy. So much practical experience gave him a significant advantage over his classmates, leading him to graduate a year early and become second engineer aboard a Gozanti-class cruiser shortly thereafter. Grey got along well with everyone, but was especially good friends with Vanto, who was from Wild Space and understood what it was like to be the odd one out among Core natives. The two of them also spent a lot of time with Major Moran, whose friendly, extroverted nature tended to draw people to him wherever he went.

 

“Hey, Sollin,” Moran said, grinning and pulling out the chair next to him. “How’d it go with what’s  her name? Did you call her?”

 

Grey sat down, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeah,” he said.  _ His shoulders twitch and his jaw muscles tighten slightly.  _ “She didn’t answer, so I left a message.”

 

Moran raised his eyebrows. “What did you say?”

 

Grey shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Just that I had a good time.”

 

“And?”

 

“And asked if she’d like to go out again.”

 

“Oh, no,” Moran groaned. “You never  _ ask  _ a girl if she wants to go out again. That gives her the option to say no.”

 

“What should I have said, then?” Grey said, sounding worried.

 

“You’re supposed to assume she wants to go out again, and plan a second date,” Moran said. “If she really doesn’t want to, she’ll say so. But don’t make it easy to turn you down.”

 

“Don’t listen to him, Sollin,” Orbo said, rolling his eyes. “Just be yourself. Women appreciate that.”

 

“I can’t be myself,” Grey said.  _ His voice rises in pitch, indicating nervousness. _ “I collect action figures. I build model speeders in my spare time. I write computer programs for _ fun _ . Women don’t want that in a guy.”

 

“Some women might,” Vanto said, trying to sound encouraging.

 

“Not any I know,” Moran snorted.

 

“If I were you, Grey,” Commander Brax said, striding into the room, “I’d listen to Lieutenant Orbo. Better to be yourself from the start. Women always see right through the krayt spit.”

 

“Language, Commander,” I said mildly, as Vanto and Moran both snickered.

 

“Sorry, sir,” Brax said. He crossed the room and sat down in his usual spot at the foot of the table, facing me. “But the sooner they learn that fact, the better.”

 

A huge, balding man with dark skin and legs the size of tree trunks, Orrin Brax was the  _ Chimaera _ ’s chief of security and took no nonsense from anyone. He had three grown children, which probably accounted for his tendency to school the younger members of the crew on how to behave. Although he might be rough around the edges, the commander had served aboard the  _ Chimaera  _ longer than anyone else in the room, and he protected the ship and her crew with a fierce, almost fiery devotion.

 

“I’m sure they appreciate your advice, Commander,” I said, “but kindly refrain from using profanity when imparting it.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Brax said gruffly, piling flatcakes on his plate and drowning them in syrup.

 

I glanced at my chrono. It was nearly 0700 and still no sign of Lieutenant Balik. Dr. Kahn hadn’t arrived either, but that wasn’t unusual. The chief medical officer was usually rushing from one appointment to the next, and was often late to briefings because of rescheduled consultations, emergency surgeries, or other procedures that needed her expertise or supervision.

 

“Has anyone seen Lieutenant Balik this morning?” I said, raising my voice slightly to be heard above the chatter.

 

“No, sir,” Enzler said. “She may have gotten lost. I can go check on her, if you like.”

 

“No need,” a voice said. “I’m here.”

 

I glanced up and saw Lieutenant Balik standing in the doorway, hands behind her back as she surveyed the room.  _ Her face is outwardly calm, but her body stance holds tension. A muscle twitches in her jaw, and her heartbeat is fast and irregular. _

 

“Welcome, Lieutenant,” I said, rising to my feet. The others followed suit, all of them gazing at the new science officer with keen interest. “Come in and take a seat. We are just about to begin.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Balik said, walking slowly into the room.  _ Her eyes dart about, evaluating the empty places at the table. _

 

“Here,” Vanto said quickly, patting the seat beside him. “This one’s free.”

 

Balik nodded and walked around the table towards him, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the staff, who were still watching her. Once she’d reached the chair, she pulled it out to sit down, and in doing so, the stump of her left arm came into view.

 

No one said anything, but I could feel a sudden shift in the room as everyone caught sight of her missing limb. A slight, almost imperceptible intake of breath, and many pairs of eyes flicking away, then back once more.  _ The muscles in Balik’s throat tighten. Her shoulders tense and her right hand closes into a fist. She is on the defensive again. _

 

“May I introduce Senior Lieutenant Kendra Balik, our new science officer,” I said into the silence. “Former science officer of the Imperial cruiser  _ Greyhawk,  _ and top of her class at Royal Imperial Academy with a double major in genetics and physiology. On behalf of the entire crew of the  _ Chimaera _ , we welcome you, Lieutenant Balik.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” she replied.  _ Her body stance relaxes slightly.  _ “Glad to be here.”

 

“How’d you lose the arm?” Commander Brax asked abruptly.

 

Balik’s eyes flicked towards him. There was a long pause while she stared at Brax, and then the same amused expression from yesterday appeared on her face.

 

“Not sure, sir,” she said. “I was jogging the other day and it just fell right off.”

 

Vanto made a sudden choking sound in his throat, and hastily took a gulp of water from his glass.

 

“Something funny, Commander?” Brax growled.

 

“No, sir,” Vanto said, turning red.

 

“May I remind you, Lieutenant,” I said evenly, “what we discussed yesterday about rationing your jokes?”

 

“Sorry, sir,” Balik said, but she didn’t look at me. Her attention was focused entirely on Brax, who was glaring at her through narrowed eyes.

 

“Didn’t the Navy give you a cybernetic?” Lieutenant Orbo asked. “They’re supposed to do that if you’re injured in combat.”

 

“I have a cybernetic,” Balik said, a slight smile playing around her mouth as she continued gazing at Brax. “I just choose not to wear it most of the time.”

 

“Why not?” Moran asked reasonably. “It would make things easier.”

 

“I don’t like things to be easy,” she replied. “If I did, I wouldn’t have joined the Navy.”

 

“I see,” Orbo said, glancing at the others with raised eyebrows.

 

Lieutenant Grey, perhaps sensing the need for a change in subject, leaned towards Balik. “I was a double major,” he said. “Engineering and physics. Hardest four years of your life, isn’t it?”

 

“Three, actually,” Balik said, finally breaking eye contact with Brax and looking at Grey.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“I graduated in three years,” she said. There was no boasting or brashness in her tone― she said it as calmly and matter-of-factly as if she was reading a weather report.

 

“Oh,” Grey said, looking taken aback. “That’s… impressive.”

 

“Not really,” Balik said. “I cheated on my exams.”

 

Sudden silence at the table. Then Balik’s lip twitched. “That’s another joke,” she said, glancing at me. “Sorry. Like I said, it’s a habit.”

 

Another brief pause, and then Major Moran laughed. The sound seemed to break through the tension that had been present ever since Balik sat down, and a few people chuckled. Even Commander Brax looked slightly less annoyed.

 

“Are you always this funny, Lieutenant?” Moran asked, grinning at her.

 

“No, sir,” Balik answered. “Only when I’m nervous.”

 

“Relax,” Moran said. “We’re not that scary. Well, Brax is,” he corrected himself, nodding at the security chief. “But only on the outside. Inside he’s a pile of goo.”

 

“Watch it, Major,” Brax said, scowling again.

 

I glanced at my chrono. It was now five after seven. I decided that the banter had gone on long enough.

 

“Let us begin,” I said. “We have a number of matters to discuss and I would like to get through them as efficiently as possible.” I waited until everyone had pushed aside their plates and pulled out their datapads before continuing. “First of all, there has been a slight change in our itinerary. Originally, we were scheduled to depart Coruscant tomorrow at 0600 hours. Our departure time has been moved up to 1800 hours this evening.” I paused to let that sink in. “The reason for this is because I have added a new stop to our route. After picking up supplies and crew on Corellia, we will travel to Nubia to retrieve Senator Reza Yarrin, the junior senator of that world. She will be accompanying us to Kathol in the role of political advisor.”

 

“A political advisor?” Brax repeated suspiciously. “What do we need someone like that for? It’s not our job to play politics. It’s our job to go in and secure the sector. End of story.”

 

“Our mission has not changed,” I said calmly. “We are still tasked with securing the sector and protecting the newly appointed moff. The only difference is that we now have a broader range of expertise at our disposal. Senator Yarrin can provide insights and advice that we might not otherwise consider.”

 

“What sort of advice?” Orbo asked.

 

“There are many insurgent groups and criminal organizations fighting for control of Kathol,” I said. “To properly assess the sector’s security needs and devise a plan of attack, I will need someone well-versed in political aspects of the conflict. Senator Yarrin will assist me in that regard.”

 

“Do you really expect us to believe that you selected this person yourself, Admiral?” Faro asked, her eyes narrowing.

 

I gazed at her for a moment, then looked around at the rest of my staff. Every one of them, with the exception of Vanto, was wearing the same skeptical expression. I sighed inwardly. Sometimes I wished I didn’t have such a shrewd and intelligent crew. It would make moments like these far less complicated.

 

“No,” I said at last. “I do not. But whether or not you believe it is irrelevant. We have our orders, and will follow them to the best of our abilities. As always.”

  
  


***

 

Hours later, I was sitting in my office going over the most recent ISB intelligence reports. Kathol was a relatively new addition to the Empire, and the few Imperial agents that had been dispatched to the sector were stretched thin, covering far too many regions and worlds to properly assess any of them. There were at least six criminal syndicates operating in the sector, but no one seemed to be able to identify their leaders or their method of operations, much less any of their symbols or artwork. To truly understand the scope of Kathol’s instability, I was going to have to wait until I was actually there. It wasn’t worth building a hypothesis on such unreliable data.

 

The comm on my desk buzzed, and I reached over and pressed the switch. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

 

“Admiral, sir,” Petra replied, and I could hear tension in his voice. “Governor Tarkin is on the secure line.”

 

I was instantly alert. Grand Moff Tarkin was Imperial governor of the Outer Rim Territories, second in command only to the Emperor himself. If he was contacting me, it must be regarding an extremely important matter.

 

“Put him through at once,” I ordered.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

The comm light began blinking, indicating that Petra had transferred the call. I slowly counted to ten and then pressed the switch.

 

A moment later, Tarkin’s sharp, pointed face flickered into view. His wispy grey hair was combed back in a widow’s peak, and his skin had a greyish tinge that was visible even through the blue glow of the holo transmission. Combined with his hollow cheeks and thin, colorless lips, he had an almost skeletal appearance.

 

“Governor,” I said politely.

 

“Admiral,” Tarkin said, his voice just as thin and sharp as his features. “Congratulations on your recent promotion. And on acquiring your ship.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” I said politely. “It is a great honor to command the  _ Chimaera _ .”

 

“She is one of the finest in the fleet,” Tarkin said. “I have no doubt that she will serve you well in battle.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

There was a slight pause. I knew Tarkin was waiting for me to ask why he was calling, but I remained silent. He would reveal the reason soon enough. All I had to do was wait.

 

“You are traveling to the Kathol sector shortly,” Tarkin said at last.

 

“That is correct,” I replied. “We depart this evening at 1800 hours.”

 

“I’m afraid there’s been a slight change in plans,” Tarkin said crisply. “IST has authorized a civilian research team to conduct a scientific mission in the Kathol sector. I have just assigned them to the  _ Chimaera.  _ You will pick them up tomorrow morning at Tralee Base on Esseles.”

 

Annoyance swept over me. As the Emperor’s second-in-command, Tarkin was extremely well informed, and was no doubt aware that Senator Yarrin would be playing a crucial role during this mission. He also knew that a trip to Esseles and back would delay the  _ Chimaera _ ’s arrival to Nubia by two full days.

 

“As I’m sure you are aware, Governor, my mission is rather time-sensitive,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Is there not another Imperial ship that could transport them?”

 

“We have none to spare at the moment,” Tarkin said. His tone was sharp, warning me not to question his decision. “The  _ Chimaera  _ will serve as the scientists’ main base of operations during their expedition. You will see to it that the ship’s laboratory is properly outfitted for their needs. IST will brief you on the specifics.”

 

“What exactly is the purpose of their mission?” I asked.

 

“Exploring Kathol’s outer regions,” Tarkin replied. “The team consists of two geologists and a xenobiologist. They will be surveying, documenting new species, that sort of thing. Don’t worry, Commander. They’ll take up very little of your precious time.”

 

I swallowed my irritation. Tarkin’s authority far surpassed mine, and it would be pointless to argue any further.

 

“Consider it done,” I said as pleasantly as possible. “When can I expect the briefing from IST?”

 

“A representative will speak with you in one hour.”

 

“Very good, sir.”

 

“One more thing,” Tarkin said, leaning forward slightly. “You will assign a member of your crew to act as liaison to the research team. Someone who can lead away missions and provide regular updates on the team’s progress. I recommend selecting someone with a scientific background.”

 

“As you wish, Governor.”

 

“Safe travels.” He keyed off without another word.

 

I leaned back slowly, contemplating what this new development might mean. The Navy often worked with Imperial scientists to conduct planetary surveys or map uncharted areas of space, but assigning civilian scientists to a military vessel, especially a Star Destroyer, was highly unusual. It therefore stood to reason that the subject of their research must also be unusual, despite what Tarkin had said.

 

I sighed, feeling the muscles in my neck and shoulders start to tense up. This certainly complicated matters. I would have to assign crew to modify the  _ Chimaera _ ’s laboratory, find quarters for three new passengers, and select someone to act as liaison to IST, all with less than a day’s notice. I also needed to contact Senator Yarrin and inform her that our arrival would be significantly delayed.

 

I typed a few commands into my desk console. Moments later, a map of the galaxy sprang up, projecting a glowing blue web of planets, stars, nebulae, hyperspace lanes, and trade routes over the black polished surface of my desk. Pushing aside all thoughts except my present task, I leaned forward and began plotting a new course for Esseles.

 


	7. What's Past Is Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old wounds reopen when Tessa attends her great aunt’s funeral. 
> 
> Warning: Explicit sexual content.

I first met Xani at a  _ pakaji _ ― a traditional  _ chakana  _ beach party― when I was fifteen. Such parties only took place once or twice a year during harvest seasons, and because of various family obligations and conflicting events, I’d never been able to attend one before. Yixa and I talked of nothing else for weeks. She and Kiro took turns teaching me some of the most common  _ chakana  _ dances, the cabin floorboards creaking underneath our feet as we stomped and whirled about. When the big night arrived, I slipped out of my house after curfew, met Yixa at the edge of the woods, and together we raced down to the rocky beach where the party was taking place. 

 

The sky was dark and clear and full of stars as we clambered down the sea cliffs, taking care not to catch our dresses on the sharp rocks. The moon shone brightly, bouncing off the ocean waves, and crisp, cold air blew across our faces. A huge bonfire crackled and roared, sending sparks flying up into the air and illuminating the people standing on the beach, talking and laughing and singing snatches of folk songs.

 

A sudden shyness took hold of me and I hung back, but Yixa grabbed my hand and dragged me over to meet some of her friends. A few of the girls eyed my red hair and expensive dress with suspicion, but once they saw Yixa treating me no differently than anyone else, they became far friendlier. Soon all the girls were standing in a rough half-circle, sipping  _ budori _ beer out of clamshell cups, laughing, telling stories, and throwing sideways glances at the boys, who were standing in their own half-circle a few meters away.

 

About an hour later the  _ jidashi _ band arrived, and then the party really got going. They played song after song, each one faster and more rollicking than the last. Every few minutes a boy would break away from his circle and venture over to ours, causing the girls to giggle and the boy’s friends to shout encouragement and make off-color jokes. This went on until the boy in question either asked a girl to dance or chickened out and went back to his own group.

 

None of the boys asked me to dance, which was disappointing but not unexpected. Yixa had warned me that they might be hesitant to approach the daughter of a noble, especially one as powerful and bad-tempered as my father, so I tried not to let it bother me. Instead, I focused on Yixa and her friends― how they swayed their hips, tossed their hair, put their arms around the boys’ necks. How were they so confident? How did they know what to do? Did it just come naturally, or did someone teach them?

 

Another hour passed, then another. I was just starting to think about going back home, and how in the world I was going to get back into my house without waking my parents, when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. I turned around. Standing in front of me was the most exotic, handsome man I’d ever seen in my life. He was alien, with brilliant yellow eyes, pale purple skin, and a crown of stubby horns encircling his bare head, and he was taller than even the tallest human boy there. He must have come late to the party, otherwise I would have noticed him immediately. I gaped up at him for a few moments, trying to think what to say, and then he smiled― a slow, seductive grin that made my knees go slightly weak.

 

“Hey,” he said. “Pretty girl. What’s your name?” His voice was low and husky, almost a growl.

 

“Tessa,” I said faintly. “I’m Tessa.”

 

“You are not  _ chakana _ ,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Well…” I began.

 

“She’s with me,” Yixa said, coming to my rescue. “She’s my friend and I invited her. So relax, Xani.”

 

“You are friends with a  _ boola _ ?” he said, eyebrows raised. “Shouldn’t you be polishing her boots?”

 

“I’m not like that,” I said, bristling. “I’m not like any of them.”

 

“Then prove it,” he said. “Nobles cannot dance the way we do. They have no passion. Show me how you are different.”

 

“Don’t listen to this  _ dooshma _ , Tessa,” Yixa said, glaring at Xani. “He’s just trying to get under your skin. Or your skirt, more likely.”

 

I felt the same flicker of annoyance I always felt when my mother forbade me from doing something. I tossed my head and moved towards Xani. “I’ll be fine,” I said.

 

Xani grinned again, showing pointed teeth. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s see if you can dance like a  _ chakana _ .”

 

The band struck up a new tune, one I didn’t know the steps to, but I threw myself into it nonetheless, whirling and stomping and clapping my hands. Xani made a few attempts to dance with me, but eventually he just stepped back and watched me with a mixture of amusement and admiration. When it became apparent that I was not going to stop, no matter how foolish I looked, every single person began cheering me on, even the musicians. I danced for nearly three solid minutes, the sand getting into my boots and my hair coming loose and falling down around my shoulders. Finally the song ended, and I sank down into a heap on the ground, gasping for breath. Everyone applauded, and then Xani stepped forward and held out his hand.

 

“I take it back, pretty girl,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “You’re just as  _ chakana _ as the rest of us.”

 

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Boys and girls began to pair off, slipping into nooks and crannies among the sea cliffs, finding quiet places to explore uncharted territory. I watched Xani anxiously. Many of the girls were flirting with him, and all seemed far prettier and more confident than I was. What if he chose someone else? Then I would be all alone, for Yixa had long since disappeared into the darkness with a boy and I had no idea how long she would be gone, or if she would even come back at all.

 

I needn’t have worried. A few minutes later, Xani untangled himself from a pair of giggling girls and came up to me.

 

“My boat is just around the bend,” he said. “Want to have a look?”

 

I nodded silently. He took my hand and led me down the beach, into a small cove where a tiny sailboat was anchored, bobbing up and down on the waves. We waded in up to our hips, the icy water soaking through our clothes, and climbed aboard.

 

Xani didn’t seem to mind the cold, but once he realized I was shivering, he pulled a heavy blanket out of the storage compartment and wrapped it around me. Then he undressed me slowly, peeling off my cold, wet dress and tugging off my sand-filled boots. I was glad he’d covered me up― I didn’t want him to see my pasty skin and pudgy stomach. Soon I was completely bare underneath the blanket, my teeth still chattering as the cold wind cut through the wool. Then Xani began taking off his own clothes.

 

I tried to remember what I’d seen the other girls do, how they flirted and teased and touched, but my mind had gone completely blank. I simply stood there, open-mouthed, as Xani pulled his shirt over his head, unbuckled his belt, and let his trousers fall around his ankles. Even in the dim light I could see how beautiful he was. Moonlight dappled his long, lean torso, his broad shoulders, his muscled chest and arms. I didn’t dare look down at his cock. It was probably enormous, and I didn’t want to think about how much it would hurt when it went inside me.

 

“Still cold?” Xani murmured.

 

“No,” I whispered. “Just nervous.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Being with you. It’s my first time.”

 

“With an alien?”

 

I shook my head. “With anyone.”

 

I expected him to tease, or joke, or perhaps recoil at the idea of bedding a virgin, but Xani only smiled, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me close. I leaned in, nuzzling against the warm, solid mass of him, a pleasant sort of tension gripping my belly.

 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll take it slow.”

 

He cleared a space in the bottom of the boat, unfastened the sail from the mast, and spread it out over the wooden boards. Then he took my hand and pulled me down on top of the thick, rough canvas. I lay alongside him, still clutching the blanket around my body.

 

“I thought you weren’t cold,” he said.

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Then why are you covering yourself?”

 

“I don’t want you to see me,” I confessed.

 

“Why?” he asked. “You’ve seen me.”

 

“Yes, but you’re gorgeous.”

 

“So are you.”

 

I started to protest, but Xani reached out and pressed his fingers to my lips. “You are,” he said firmly. “And I want to see you.”

 

Blushing furiously, I slowly let the blanket fall off me, exposing my bare flesh to the cold air. Xani smiled and started touching me all over, cupping my breasts in both hands, caressing my stomach, kissing the insides of my thighs. At first I was afraid to speak, or even move, but then he started asking questions, which made it harder to keep silent. “How does this feel?” he would ask. “Do you want me to keep going? Should I try something else?” It wasn’t at all how I imagined my first time would be― I’d pictured a lot less talking and far more awkward fumbling― but Xani clearly wanted me to communicate as much as possible. “Tell me what you want,” he kept saying. “Tell me what you like.”

 

It was difficult at first. I’d discovered masturbation several years ago and knew exactly how to pleasure myself, but it was hard to verbalize what I wanted to another person. Xani was patient, though, and after a while I became more comfortable telling him where to go and what to do. I showed him how to slide his fingers back and forth over my clitoris, stroking in a steady rhythm, how to fondle my breasts, squeezing and sucking at my nipples. After nearly an hour of this, it finally occurred to me that he might like some attention, too.

 

“What do  _ you  _ want?” I asked him.

 

Xani laughed and kissed my shoulder. “I want you to do what I did,” he said. “Ask me what I like. Feel my body. Explore me, taste me. It’s your first time. You should make the most of it.”

 

I did make the most of it, so much so that eventually Xani started panting and arching his back, his eyes going wide as I probed the tip of his cock with my tongue. “Tessa,” he groaned. “You beautiful, sexy girl. I love what you’re doing to me.”

 

After a long while, after I was wet and loose and completely relaxed, he got up on his knees, wrapped my legs around his waist, and slid into me. To my surprise, it didn’t hurt at all. In fact, the feel of his cock filling me up, stretching me wide, rubbing against my inner walls, was so pleasurable, so all-consuming, that I started writhing and squirming and rocking my hips up and down, making sounds I didn’t know I could make― high-pitched cries, sobbing moans, squealing gasps. Then I came, bucking frantically, making the entire boat sway violently back and forth.

 

I never forgot that first night we spent together, making love on that tiny sailboat, our moans mingling with sound of sloshing waves. It was, I realized years later, the perfect metaphor for our relationship― buffeted about by constantly changing winds, clinging desperately to one another for balance, yet always rising and falling and rising again, with only a thin, frayed rope to keep us from drifting away altogether.

 

***

 

As my mother had said, the second floor bathroom of Ganshara was well-lit and far roomier than the one on the lower level. I locked the door behind me, stripped down to my undergarments, and spent the next few minutes studying myself in the mirror, wondering how different I looked to Xani after nearly twenty years. There were more wrinkles around my eyes, more rolls of fat around my stomach, and a slight sag to my breasts that certainly hadn’t been there at fifteen. At least my hair was still the same― it had always been my best feature, a shimmering dark red curtain that fell past my waist. I twisted it up into a simple knot and anchored it in place with a handful of pins. I slipped the grey silk dress over my head, yanked on a pair of pantyhose, and shoved my feet into a pair of heels Mama had lent me. Then, taking a deep breath, I went back downstairs.

 

The  _ duma  _ was filled with family members, mostly from my mother’s side, although I spotted my father’s brother Matthias and his wife Sofia chatting with Mama towards the back of the room. Shonai Kellan was standing at the main entrance, dressed in his formal blue and white robes, greeting the mourners as they arrived. When he saw me, he dropped his solemn expression and gave me a gentle smile. With an effort, I smiled back. My twin cousins Kima and Kumi were standing just behind him, and I wanted to avoid eye contact with them if at all possible. The twins were a few years younger than me and represented the absolute worst aspects of Tapani nobles― spoiled, vicious, small-minded creatures who loved nothing more than spreading rumors and stirring up trouble at family gatherings.

 

“Tessa, darling!” Aunt Mariana exclaimed, waddling over. Small and stout with slightly buggy eyes, my mother’s sister still had a full head of red hair, though I suspected she’d probably started dyeing it years ago.

 

I gave her a gracious curtsy. “ _ Baka jai wenatan _ , Auntie.”

 

She stepped forward and gave me a kiss on both cheeks. I caught a whiff of alcohol on her breath. “How nice that you could be here,” she said, pulling away. We never see you anymore.”

 

“I’ve been busy,” I said. “Teaching takes up most of my time.”

 

“Oh, yes,” Mariana said with a falsely bright smile. “I remember your mama telling me about that. Somewhere in the Outer Rim?”

 

“Yes, on Cirrus. I’ve been there for about five years.”

 

“Teaching science?”

 

I nodded. “Geology.”

 

“She means rocks,” my cousin Kima said, gliding over to us, a sneer hovering around her mouth. “She studies  _ rocks _ , Mama.”

 

“I know what geology is, Kima,” Mariana said frostily. “Go find your sister and sit down.”

 

Kima gave me a simpering look and then flounced away, her ample backside jiggling underneath her gown. I tried not to grimace. Thank God I’d left Reena when I did. I could easily have turned into someone like her if I’d stayed.

 

“I should go sit down, too,” Mariana said. “I’m giving a few remarks, so I need to be right up front. But we really must chat afterwards.”

 

“Of course,” I said with an equally false smile. “That would be lovely.”

 

My aunt inclined her head and then waddled up the aisle towards the front pew. I glanced around the chamber, hoping to catch a glimpse of Xani, but I couldn’t see him anywhere. He must be waiting until after the ceremony to set up the bar.

 

“Tessalyn,” Mama said, coming towards me. Her voice was sharp and strained. “Where have you been? We’re about to start.”

 

“Sorry, Mama.”

 

“Go sit with Baba,” she said. “I have to be in the front.”

 

I trudged up the aisle, annoyed at being chastised for no good reason. Baba was sitting in the sixth row from the altar, reading something on his datapad. He didn’t speak or look up, just scooted over slightly and went on reading. That was fine with me. I sat back against the hard wooden pew, arms folded, wishing this stupid thing was over already. I wanted to visit with Xani, listen to his deep, sexy voice, remember the fun we’d had when we were young. I wanted a drink― several, actually― and I also wanted to eat. My stomach rumbled again and I swallowed hard, trying not to think about all that food I’d helped prepare.

 

Finally, Shonai Kellan stepped up to the altar. He began the service by praising Aunt Maeve’s generosity, placing emphasis on her dedication to Ganshara and her commitment to preserving its legacy. After a few minutes, I realized that the shonai was using this opportunity to draw attention to the fact that my father still hadn’t approved his request for the temple’s renovation, even after nearly ten years. No doubt he was hoping that the presence of so many influential  _ chentana _ tonight would put Baba in a more generous state of mind. Knowing Mama, she might even have encouraged Kellan to lay on the guilt. She loved going to temple and was always nagging my father to put money into something that mattered for a change. I grinned to myself. Baba wasn’t the only one who knew politics.

 

Kellan then invited family and friends to speak about the deceased, what she had meant to them, how she had influenced their lives. Only three people did― one of Maeve’s friends from temple, my mother, and Aunt Mariana. I expected their stories to be dull, devoid of any real meaning, but what I heard surprised me. The friend spoke about Maeve’s kindness, the many times she opened her home to people who had lost theirs to flooding, regardless of whether they were nobles or commoners. Mariana recalled the old woman’s acidic sense of humor, while Mama remembered her legendary stubbornness and her love of riding speeder bikes down the coast, even in her seventies.

 

It seemed my great aunt had led a more interesting life than I’d thought, and I felt a little ashamed of myself for being so contemptuous of her. What made me so different, really? I’d traveled more than her, certainly. Gone to college. Had a career. But I’d never really belonged anywhere. Not the way Maeve had belonged to her community, to her world. I was always too busy exploring, always focused on the next destination, the next challenge, the next uncharted planet.

 

_ You’re not happy unless you’re moving. _

 

_ Maybe that’s because I’m afraid to sit still. _

 

I suddenly felt frightened, almost panicky. What would people say at my funeral? Would anyone come? Would they care that I was gone? For Tapani nobility, lineage and legacy were the real measures of success, not college degrees or scientific discoveries. In my family’s view, I’d shamed them all by leaving Reena, by refusing to take the path they’d chosen for me. I had become  _ naguna _ ― a noble without status, a daughter without honor. It was highly unlikely that I would be given a  _ chentana  _ funeral at all, but if I was, it would probably be like Tam’s, hastily convened in the dark of night, with no shonai to give a eulogy and no relatives to reminisce.

 

The panic was in full force now, pressing in on all sides, making it difficult to breathe. I closed my eyes and gripped the pew hard with both hands, focusing on the sharp wooden edge digging into my palms. The pain pierced through the haze, bringing me back to the present moment. Gradually, my heart stopped racing and the tightness in my chest eased. The panic was gone as quickly as it had come, but the sense of fear lingered.

 

I glanced around the  _ duma _ , trying to focus on something else. Baba was beside me, datapad balanced on his lap, doing his best not to fall asleep. All around me, my relatives were watching Mama speak, most only with mild interest. Then I caught a glance of Shonai Kellan, standing off to the side, arms folded across his chest. There was a soft longing in his eyes as he gazed at my mother, an almost tangible desire that made my heart ache. What agony it must be, loving someone for years and never being able to tell her how you felt.

 

If Mama sensed Kellan’s gaze, she gave no sign. She continued speaking in a steady, clear voice, looking out over the crowd, the bangles on her dress sparkling in the candlelight. After a few minutes, she finished her speech, stepped down from the altar, and sat back down next to Mariana. I saw my aunt lean over and whisper something, and then Mama leaned her head against her sister’s shoulder. I felt an unexpected burst of jealousy. Why didn’t she seek comfort from me?  _ Because you’re never here _ , I reminded myself.

 

Kellan concluded the service with a brief prayer, and then the moment I’d been dreading arrived. One by one, every mourner stood and walked up to Aunt Maeve’s coffin, which was standing on a raised platform beneath the altar, to pay their respects and pour the vials of sand over her body.

 

I tried not to look into the coffin as I approached, but I couldn’t help it. Maeve’s head was resting on a purple satin pillow, her eyes closed, her wrinkled hands clasping a bouquet of yixa blooms and sandgrass. Death had wiped her face of all expression. Her skin was smooth as porcelain, her mouth a thin, sunken line. An empty shell.

 

Quickly, I poured my vial of sand into the coffin, fighting a sudden urge to weep, then walked blindly back down the aisle. I almost bumped into Kellan, who was standing in the center of the  _ duma  _ watching the proceedings. I started to move away, but the shonai reached out and grasped my arm.

 

“Are you all right?” he asked, keeping his voice low so that no one else could hear. When I shook my head, he squeezed my arm gently. “Would you like to sit down somewhere for a bit?”

 

I nodded and allowed him to steer me out of the chamber, down the hallway, and into his office. He shut the door behind us and I sank down in one of the armchairs, glad to be rid of my family’s prying eyes. Then I dissolved into tears.

 

Kellan didn’t say a word, just sat down in the chair next to me, and waited in comfortable silence until I finished crying. I was grateful for that. Growing up, my parents would always scold us whenever we started weeping, especially in public. Tam had it worse than I did, though― every time he broke down in front of my father, Baba always berated him for acting “like a girl,” as if sorrow was somehow more acceptable when it was expressed by women. Just one of many things I hated about him.

 

The tears slid steadily down my face for a few minutes, and then I felt my breath start to slow down, the tension draining away. I wiped my eyes on the corner of my dress and let out a long, quavering sigh.

 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I didn’t even know her, really.”

 

“Perhaps it is not Maeve you’re crying for,” Kellan said, his voice gentle.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You experienced a great loss at a young age,” he said. “But you were never given the chance to properly grieve. Maybe this is your way of doing so.”

 

“You mean my brother,” I said, almost angrily. “That was over fifteen years ago, Shonai. I should be past that by now.”

 

“Grief is a funny thing, Tessa. We can go years and years without feeling it, and then we think, ‘I’m fine. I’m healed now. I’m done with this pain.’ And then something happens to remind us of our loss, and we feel as though we have failed somehow. ‘I shouldn’t feel this,’ we say to ourselves. ‘I already went through this. I must be weak.’ That is not so. Feeling pain does not make you a failure. It does not make you weak. It means you are not finished grieving.”

 

I thought about Tam’s message written on the wall, the last thing he wanted to say before leaving this world.  _ Without pain, you will find no peace. _

 

“I want it to stop,” I said, tears welling up again. “Tell me how to make it stop.”

 

“You need to let yourself grieve,” Kellan said softly. “You need to acknowledge your pain, not run away from it. That is the only way.”

 

“I want to,” I said, my voice trembling. “I do. But I don’t know how.”

 

Kellan reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. “Then stay here,” he said. “Don’t go to Kathol. Stay here and let me help you.”

 

I looked up into the priest’s kind face, his soft blue eyes gazing back at me steadily.  _ Baba Manuni. Father of peace.  _ Maybe he really could help. Maybe I should stay. I could figure out how to rid myself of this constant pain, let Kellan guide me to a place of calm. I could try to rebuild the things I’d broken, mend past hurts, regain my status. I could be here when Yixa’s baby was born. I could take care of my mother.

 

“I can’t,” I said, the words bursting out of my lungs. “I’ve made a commitment to my colleagues, Shonai. To my career. If I back out now, I’ll never get another chance.”

 

“Some things are more important than work, Tessa.”

 

I shook my head and rose to my feet. “I appreciate it,” I said. “But I’m fine. Really.”

 

Kellan gazed at me for a long moment. Then he stood up as well. “It is your decision,” he said. “But please think about what I have said.”

 

“I will,” I replied. The words sounded hollow, even to my own ears. “I promise.”

  
  


***

 

“Where have you been?” Mama demanded as Kellan and I reentered the  _ duma _ . “You can’t just run off like that, Tessa.”

 

“It’s all right,” Kellan said. “She just needed a few minutes.”

 

“You shouldn’t have left either, Tomas,” Mama said. “People have been asking for you.” Then she stopped, lifting a hand to her mouth as she realized what she’d said. Nobles  _ never _ used first names when addressing shonai. Such behavior was far too familiar―and far too intimate― to be considered proper.

 

Kellan’s face went rigid, and as if on instinct, he stepped back from the two of us. A flicker of suspicion crossed my mind, and with it, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. What exactly were my mother and Kellan doing before I walked in on them this afternoon? Not just discussing the ceremony, that was for sure.

 

“I’m fine, Mama,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I just need something to eat, that’s all.”

 

“Of course,” Mama said. Her eyes were still locked on Kellan’s. “Go help yourself. And fix a plate for your father, too. I have more people to greet.” It spoke to how distracted she was that she didn’t use the opportunity to make a snide remark about my weight.

 

“Yes, Mama.” 

 

I withdrew, head still reeling. I’d always known my mother and Kellan were a bit taken with each other, but never in a million years had I thought they’d actually  _ do  _ something about it. Did my father know? Surely not. He would have burned Ganshara to the ground if he found out that a lowly priest was making advances towards his wife.

 

I avoided the bar, knowing that Xani would be swamped for the next hour and wouldn’t be able to give me much attention.  _ Chentana  _ used every social event as an excuse for drinking, but funerals were always particularly boozey. Instead, I made my way over to the food table and went to the back of the queue.

 

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, I reached down and yanked on my pantyhose, which had been slowly inching down my waist ever since I’d put them on. I gave them a few good tugs, smoothed out the wrinkles, then straightened up― and found myself face to face with a dark-haired young man. I recognized him as Uncle Matthias and Aunt Sofia’s son, but couldn’t remember his name.

 

“ _ Manu ata hai _ ,” I said automatically, trying not look embarrassed at being caught adjusting my underwear.

 

“ _ Manu ata hai _ ,” he replied. There was a bit of a grin on his face. He’d probably been watching me for a good thirty seconds or more. What a creep. But really, what else would you expect from a teenage boy?

 

“You’re Thad’s daughter, aren’t you?” the young man said.

 

“Yes, I’m Tessa,” I answered. “And you’re Matthias’s son.”

 

“Altrof,” he supplied.

 

“Right,” I said. “Altrof. Good of you to come. Especially since she’s not even your aunt.”

 

Altrof shrugged. “Your father suggested that I make an appearance. He thought it might be good practice.”

 

“Practice?” I asked, frowning. “For what?”

 

“You know, social events and such,” he said. “I’ll be attending a lot of them on Procopia soon.”

 

“Oh?” I said. “Are you taking an internship with his office or something?”

 

It was Altrof’s turn to frown. “No,” he said. “That’s strange. I mean, it’s not officially announced, but I thought he would have at least told  _ you _ .”

 

“Told me what?” I said, my confusion increasing.

 

“I’m taking his seat on the council.”

 

I stared at him for a moment. Then I let out a short, hysterical giggle.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“Nothing,” I said, stifling another giggle behind my hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just… you had me going there for a second.”

 

He didn’t smile. “I’m not joking,” he said. “I really am taking it.”

 

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s ridiculous. What are you, sixteen?”

 

“Eighteen,” he said, his face darkening. “Although I don’t see why that should matter.”

 

I raised my eyebrows. “You can’t be serious. You’re taking my father’s council seat? The seat he’s had for over fifty years, the seat that makes all of Reena’s decisions, that sets policy, that negotiates trade agreements and brokers peace treaties? That seat?”

 

“Yes, that seat,” Altrof said. His mouth was set in a hard line. “You don’t think I deserve it?”

 

“Oh, it’s not that,” I said. “I just don’t think you can handle it. Excuse me.” I stepped past him and stalked off in search of my father.

 

I found him in one of the corridors near the kitchen, talking to someone on his comlink. As I approached, he ended the call and then glanced up with a grumpy expression.

 

“I just stepped out for a moment,” he said. “Tell your mother that I’ll be back in a bit. I just need a few minutes to―”

 

“When were you going to tell me that you appointed a successor?”

 

Baba’s face went still. Then he carefully hooked his comlink back on his belt and began adjusting his cufflinks. I knew the gesture well. It was what he did whenever he wanted to buy time.

 

“I just saw Altrof,” I went on, refusing to give him even a moment to think. I wanted him off balance, unprepared, blindsided, just as I had been moments ago. “He said you’re giving him the seat. Do you mind telling me what the frack is going on?”

 

“I knew that little worm couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” Baba said. “He was supposed to wait until we announced it next month.”

 

“So it’s true,” I said. “You’re giving your council seat to a child.”

 

“He’s eighteen, Tessa.”

 

“Exactly. He’s not ready for that level of responsibility.”

 

“I’m getting old,” Baba said, the wrinkles cutting deep into his forehead as he glared at me. “If I don’t choose a successor soon, the council will give my seat to someone else. Is that what you want? Someone making decisions for Reena with no knowledge of its politics or history? Someone who might not even be  _ from  _ Reena?”

 

“Of course not,” I said, exasperated. “I want Reena to be represented by one of our own. But not by a teenager, for frack’s sake. He wouldn’t last a day on the Great Council. They’ll eat him alive.”

 

“Believe me, he wasn’t my first choice,” he said. “But I want a Yuri in that seat. And since you have refused to take it, I have very few options left.”

 

“I offered to take it,” I said, anger boiling up in my stomach. “I begged you to let me take it. You wouldn’t let me. So don’t you  _ dare _ blame me for your mistakes.”

 

“What’s past is past,” Baba said. “It’s the future we need to worry about now.”

 

“It’s not past for me,” I said. “You may have forgotten, but I haven’t.”

 

“That’s enough.” His voice was dangerously soft. “Let it go.”

 

“How do you expect me to let it go?” I said, clenching my fists. “You wouldn’t even let us mourn his passing. You just expected us to pick up the pieces and move on, like everything was fine.”

 

“Be quiet,” Baba snapped. “Do you want your mother to hear you?”

 

With difficulty, I bit my tongue. Mama had been upset enough for one night. She didn’t need to see her husband and daughter snarling at each other, too.

 

“It should have been me,” I said after a long pause. “It should have been me in that seat and you know it.”

 

“No, I don’t,” Baba said flatly. The fire had gone out of his voice, but his eyes were still full of anger. “You lack subtlety, Tessa. Politics requires a certain finesse, a way with people. You are neither delicate nor diplomatic. You say anything that comes into your head. You attack problems with a hammer when you should use a scalpel.”

 

“At least I face the problems,” I retorted. “You seem content to ignore them.”

 

“Is that so?” he said with a bitter smile. “Well then, my daughter. Tell me. What problems can the great Tessalyn Yuri solve that her father cannot?”

 

“I didn’t say I could solve them. I said I could face them.”

 

“And I can’t?”

 

“You can,” I said, “but you choose not to. The Empire is in power now, Baba. They’re taking over. I don’t like it. I hate the way they’ve put a chokehold on all trade coming out of the sector. I hate that they’re taking money away from my university, from all the universities. I hate the way they steal our jobs and tell us how to live our lives. But that’s the reality. We have to adapt. If we want to win, we have to change how we’re playing the game.”

 

“You mean give up Reena’s resources,” he bit out. “Let the Empire move in, strip our land bare, destroy our crops, build factories, carve out mines, as they have on so many other worlds.”

 

“There are ways we could do it sustainably,” I argued. “Less invasive techniques.”

 

“Once you give them ground, they will not stop,” he said. “Better to wait them out.”

 

“That’s your answer to everything,” I snapped. “Wait it out. Sit on our hands and do nothing while the other houses swoop in and snap up every bit of Imperial infrastructure they can get their hands on. Then Reena finishes last, like it always does.”

 

“You talk about these things as if you understand them,” he said, his voice heavy with scorn. “But you don’t. Sooner or later, the Empire will fall. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually it will. That’s how it works. Every regime falls and a new one takes its place. Tapani has stood through thousands of years, hundreds of regimes. We’re still here. They are not. That’s longevity. That’s what we have to protect. Our legacy, our history. That is the real power.”

 

“And you think Altrof is going to protect it? You really have lost your mind.”

 

“I don’t want to discuss this anymore,” Baba said abruptly, reaching for his comlink. “I’ve made my decision and it’s final. That’s the end of it. Now go. I have another call to make.”

 

I stared at him, seriously contemplating what might happen if I slapped the comlink out of his hand. Or better yet, slapped him in the face. But I wanted to hurt him, really hurt him, and there was only one surefire way to accomplish that.

 

“Fine,” I said sweetly. “I should be getting back, anyway. I promised the bartender a blowjob if he doesn’t get enough tips, and you know how stingy our family can be.”

 

Baba was keying on his comm as I spoke, so my words didn’t immediately register. By the time he’d realized what I’d said, I was already halfway down the corridor.

 

“Tessa,” he hissed after me. “I swear, if you even go  _ near  _ that piece of scum―”

 

I kept walking, feeling a small stab of triumph.I went back inside the  _ duma _ and headed straight for the bar.

 

Xani was peeling a piece of sandfruit, a towel flung over his left shoulder. I pushed my way past the few people waiting for their drinks and leaned over the smooth, plasteel countertop. 

 

Xani glanced up and saw me. He smiled. “What will it be, my lady?”

 

“You,” I said, loudly enough for him to hear, but quietly enough so that the people behind me wouldn’t. “I want you.”

 

Immediately his eyes flicked from side to side, making sure no one had overheard. “I don’t have time for games right now, Tessa,” he said in an equally low voice. “Either order something or leave.”

 

“I’m not playing games. How soon can you get away?”

 

He set down the knife and the sandfruit, looking slightly annoyed. “You had a fight with your father, didn’t you?”

 

“Are you interested or not?” I said, leaning further over the counter so he could see more of my cleavage. “Last chance.”

 

Xani sighed, although I couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of exasperation or one of longing. Probably both. 

 

“Midnight,” he said. “Meet me at the Gloil.”


	8. Recalculation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At his medical officer’s urging, Thrawn attempts to expand his social circle, which yields some interesting results. Lieutenant Balik receives a new assignment.

“With all due respect, sir,” Balik said, setting the datapad back down on my desk, ”I think it’s a load of kriff.”

 

It was 2100, three hours after we were originally supposed to depart Coruscant. I had spent most of the evening reading the scientists’ proposal, but found some of the technical jargon difficult to comprehend, so I’d requested both Vanto and Lieutenant Balik’s assistance in deciphering it― Vanto for the verbal translation, Balik for the scientific.

 

Vanto, who was sitting in the chair next to Balik, remained silent, but I saw him wince at her choice of words. My aide could be as foul-mouthed as an Imperial Marine when he wanted to, but he didn’t like it when officers directed such phrasing towards me, even if the intent behind it wasn’t hostile. An old habit, one he had yet to break, acquired at Royal Imperial where the Core World cadets used every available opportunity to insult and intimidate the two of us― the alien and the Wild Space yokel who dared set foot in their comfortable, orderly domain.

 

_Balik’s gaze is level, her body stance relaxed and steady. Her tone is without heat, suggesting that her use of profanity is not a sign of disrespect, but rather conviction. As I requested, she is being completely honest in her assessment._

 

I let the silence hang in the air for a few moments. Then I tilted my head towards the datapad in front of me. “Can you be more specific, Lieutenant?” I asked.

 

“The entire proposal is ridiculous,” Balik said, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “An geochemical signature that may or may not lead to a source of renewable energy, that may or may not have the potential to power starship engines? Their entire hypothesis is based on a single pattern of deep-space sensor data. That’s hardly enough to build a hypothesis, let alone a theory. And now they want to spend eighteen months planet-hopping around the Kathol Outback, using our resources, our equipment, and our people to track something that may not even exist? The whole thing smells of desperation.”

 

“IST seems to think it is worthy of investment.”

 

“Again, with all due respect, sir,” Balik said, “when it comes to IST, it doesn’t matter how unreliable the data is or how vague the details are. They’ll snatch up any project that might give the Navy an edge, especially if it’s related to fuel efficiency. I’m guessing that this Dr. Alyn and―” she glanced down at the datapad “―Dr. Shelton are using that to their advantage.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Because they’re from a tiny, backwater college in the Outer Rim,” Balik said. “You know as well as I do that a place like that doesn’t have the money to fund a project of this scale. The only places that do are the big Imperial programs like IST, but Alyn and Shelton knew IST wouldn’t approve the grant unless they promised something to the Empire in return. So in the proposal, they speculated that this energy signature can deliver a new source of sustainable fuel to the naval fleet, even though they have very little evidence to back that up.” 

 

“What are you saying?” Vanto asked. _His eyebrows rise and his mouth turns down at the corners, indicating skepticism._ “These people have some sort of hidden agenda? They’re scientists, not secret agents.”

 

“All I’m saying,” Balik said, “is that their research has some pretty large holes, which makes me question whether fuel efficiency is actually their primary goal.”

 

“What else do you suppose their goal might be?” I asked.

 

Balik shrugged. “The Outback is a scientist’s dream come true. Hundreds of uncharted star systems, dozens of new planets. They could be trying to find new lifeforms, study spatial anomalies, explore the entire Kathol Rift nebula. Who knows. All I can say is, I pity whoever has to go out there with them.”

 

I raised my eyebrows. “Why is that?”

 

“Because the Outback is absolutely enormous,” she said. “There’s no Imperial presence there except for the Galtea outpost. Once you cross the Marcol Void, you’re cut off from civilization. It can take days, even weeks for communications to get through. There are ion storms, black holes, spatial distortions that can tear a ship’s hull apart. Not to mention all the pirates and smugglers lurking along the hyperspace lanes, waiting to ambush any ship that wanders into their path.”

 

“Have you traveled in the Outback before, Lieutenant?” I asked curiously. “You seem to know a great deal about it.”

 

“No, sir,” she admitted. “But I’ve read reports from Imperial scientists who did. The ones who made it back, anyway. I wouldn’t wish what they went through on anyone. Not even my worst enemy.”

 

I glanced at Vanto. _His lips compress and his shoulders tighten, indicating tension._

 

“That is unfortunate,” I said after a pause. “Such a bleak view will likely make your new assignment far more challenging.”

 

“My new assignment, sir?”

 

“Yes. Governor Tarkin personally requested that an Imperial liaison be assigned to the team. Someone who can lead away missions and provide reports on the scientists’ progress. I have selected you to serve in that capacity.”

 

 _Balik blinks, and then her lips pull back in something like a smile._ “You’re not serious,” she said.

 

“I am perfectly serious,” I replied calmly. “Governor Tarkin wants an Imperial officer with a scientific background to monitor the team’s progress and ensure that they are achieving their goals. I want a skilled officer to accompany the scientists and ensure their safety during the expedition. You are by far the best person to play that role. Especially considering your knowledge of the Outback, which is far greater than I expected.”

 

“I appreciate your faith in me, sir,” Balik said. “But you’re going to need all the help you can get to secure the sector. I think I would be of far better use to you on the bridge.”

 

“Under normal circumstances, I would agree,” I replied. “However, this order comes from Tarkin himself, which makes it of the utmost importance. There is no one else I am willing to entrust with that level of responsibility.”

 

Balik shook her head. “Sir, the whole point of me being here is to serve on the _Chimaera_ , not on some tiny research shuttle in the middle of nowhere. Use one of the junior science officers as liaison. I’m sure they’re up to the task.”

 

I gazed at her for a moment. I hadn’t known Balik for very long, but I had the distinct impression that the lieutenant had become far too accustomed to having her own way. Bluntness was one thing, but allowing ego to get in the way of accepting an assignment was quite another.

 

“The whole point of you being here, Lieutenant,” I said after a pause, “is to serve the Empire in whatever capacity required.”

 

“Sir―”

 

“I have made my decision,” I said, putting a hint of warning into my voice. “There will be no more arguments. You will serve as the primary point of communication between Dr. Alyn’s team and the IST representative assigned to this grant, and you will do everything in your power to ensure the scientists’ safety during their expedition. End of discussion.”

 

_Balik’s right hand curls into a fist and her jaw tightens. She is angry. No, more than that. She is furious._

 

“Babysitting a bunch of civilian scientists,” she ground out. “That’s what you want me to spend the next year and a half doing? That’s what you call responsibility? If that’s all you entrust me with, maybe I should just go back to the _Greyhawk_.”

 

“Watch your tone,” Vanto said sharply, straightening up in his chair. “That’s your commanding officer you’re talking to.”

 

“And what are you?” she snapped. “His guard dog?”

 

“Enough,” I cut in. “Commander, would you excuse us, please?”

 

Vanto rose from his chair, still glowering at Balik, who was giving him an equally icy stare. “I’ll be on the bridge if you need me, sir,” he said.

 

“Thank you.”

 

I waited until the door slid shut behind him, and then turned to Balik. _She is watching me closely, teeth clenched, muscles tense. She knows she has crossed a line, but is unsure what the consequence will be._

 

“You may have gotten used to a certain amount of leeway on the _Greyhawk_ ,” I said quietly, “but aboard my ship, officers do not reject an assignment simply because they do not like it or think it is beneath them.”

 

“I don’t think it’s beneath me, sir,” she said stiffly.

 

“Then why are you questioning my orders?”

 

“I just got here,” Balik said. _Her voice rises, both in volume and pitch._ “I’ve barely been here for a day, and now you’re sending me somewhere else.”

 

“You feel as though I have betrayed you,” I said. “Cast you aside without giving you a chance to prove yourself.”

 

_Balik blinks in surprise. She has not expected me to understand. She nods her head and leans back slightly in her chair._

 

“That was not my intention,” I said. “As I said, the situation is unusual. I have had to make many adjustments to accommodate this change, all of them inconvenient. But that is the reality of the role. To become an effective leader, you must be flexible. Learn to see changing circumstances as opportunities, rather than setbacks. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, sir,” she muttered.

 

“Then let us have no more grumbling,” I said. “We have much to do before arriving at Esseles, including retrofitting the _Chimaera_ ’s laboratory for geosciences. The IST representative has sent us the specifications. Please work with Senior Lieutenant Grey to ensure they are implemented properly.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Balik said again. _The muscles in her arms and shoulders relax, and her heart rate slowly returns to normal. The anger has faded, at least for now, but the hurt is still there._ “Do I still have your permission to continue my research in my spare time?”

 

“You do,” I answered. “But take care, Lieutenant. I anticipate your new role will be quite time-consuming. Do not stretch yourself too thin.”

 

_The ghost of a smile crosses Balik’s face, suggesting that she finds my words of caution amusing. I suspect that she has never been one to heed such advice, for she believes herself incapable of failure. A common affliction, born from the optimism and overconfidence of youth. I wonder how long it will be before reality descends, and whether it will be a slow or sudden fall._

 

“Don’t worry about me, sir,” Balik said. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“I am sure you will,” I said. “Dismissed.”

 

***

 

That night my lack of sleep finally caught up with me. I collapsed into bed just before midnight, and when my alarm went off at 0530, it took all my self-control not to grab it off my bedside table and throw it across the room. Instead, I turned it off, forced myself to sit up, and slowly rose from my bunk. My muscles were stiff and sore from yesterday’s sparring session, and I moved gingerly across the floor to the fresher unit. I had pushed myself too hard again. Poor timing, given that my monthly physical was scheduled for this morning, but it was too late to worry about it now. I took a hot shower, which helped to ease the soreness, then dressed in my usual attire and went out into the living room to await Dr. Kahn’s arrival.

 

At precisely 0600, the intercom buzzed. I walked over to the wall and pressed the talk button. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

 

Senior Lieutenant Petra’s voice floated out into the living room. “Good morning, sir. Dr. Kahn has arrived.”

 

“Very good,” I replied. “Send her up.”

 

“Right away, sir.” He keyed off.

 

Thirty seconds later, the lift doors slid open and Dr. Kilian Kahn stepped into my quarters. Short and stout with brown skin, greying hair, and large, liquid black eyes, Kahn was in her early forties and had been the _Chimaera_ ’s chief medical officer for nearly two years. Before that, she’d been a trauma surgeon at Coruscant Medical, and before that, a Navy combat medic. Many people would have long since buckled under the strain of such stressful occupations, but Kahn seemed to bear it reasonably well. I suspected that her family was largely what kept her going. She had two young daughters― aged five and seven if I recalled correctly― and from the expression on her face whenever she spoke about them, it was clear that they brought her much joy.

 

“Good morning, doctor,” I greeted her. “Thank you for coming at such an early hour.”

 

“Thank you for keeping your appointment for once,” Kahn replied. _Her tone is light, but her expression is stern_. “What is it, the third time you’ve rescheduled?”

 

“My apologies. I have been quite busy.”

 

“Don’t bother with excuses,” she said. _She waves her hand through the air, brushing my words aside_. “I’ve heard them all. Sit down and let’s have a look at you.”

 

Obediently I sat down on one end of the sofa. Dr. Kahn sat in the armchair next to me and placed her medical bag on the end table. _Her movements are brisk, but there is a calmness to them, a quiet confidence that speaks to years of experience._

 

“Okay,” she said, removing her stethoscope from around her neck. “Sit up straight and give me a few deep breaths.”

 

I did so, inhaling and exhaling slowly as Kahn pressed the metal bell against my chest. _Her touch is gentle but strong. I wonder how many lives she has held in her hands, how many times she has coaxed air back into a pair of lungs or stitched a body back together. And how many times life has slipped out of her grasp._

 

Kahn listened for a few moments, then moved the bell around to my back. “Good,” she said after I’d breathed in and out twice more. “Excellent.”

 

“I trust my heart is still beating?”

 

“It is,” she said with a grin, looping the stethoscope back around her neck. “Nothing wrong with your sense of humor either, I see. Roll up your sleeve, please.”

 

I unbuttoned my shirt sleeve and pushed it up to my shoulder. Kahn took a pressure cuff out of her bag, wrapped it around my upper arm, and fastened it in place.

 

“How much are you sleeping these days?” she asked as she began pumping air into the cuff.

 

“Five hours a night, give or take,” I answered. The band tightened around my arm, making it go slightly numb.

 

“Are you finding that adequate?” Kahn asked, watching the pressure meter closely. “Most humans need at least seven to function at their best.”

 

“Five is normal for my species,” I assured her.

 

“Then make sure you keep it at five, okay?” she said. “No less.”

 

“I will.”

 

“Good.” Kahn released the valve and the cuff depressurized, sending the air out in a soft whoosh. “One twenty over eighty. Excellent.” She removed the cuff from my arm. “No need to ask if you’re eating enough. Neesha makes certain of that.”

 

I smiled. “She does, although she continues to insist that I am too thin.”

 

“Nonsense,” the doctor said. “If memory serves, you were around eighty kilos at our last appointment. That’s perfectly healthy for someone of your height.”

 

“Perhaps you could remind Neesha of that fact when you see her.”

 

“I’ll be sure to chastise her thoroughly.” Kahn put the pressure cuff back inside the bag, then turned back and looked at me closely. “How are things going otherwise? Any specific concerns you’d like to discuss?”

 

I shook my head, but Kahn didn’t continue with the exam. _She sits back in her chair, hands folded in her lap, the picture of patience._

 

“You sure?” she said, her tone light. “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

 

I felt a flicker of annoyance. “Has Commander Vanto spoken to you again?”

 

 _Dr. Kahn’s chin juts out slightly and her lips compress, indicating determination, perhaps defiance._ “He has a right to be concerned, sir. He’s your aide. It’s part of his job to monitor your health, physically and otherwise.”

 

“What specifically is he concerned about?”

 

“Isolation,” she said. “He says you’ve been spending a lot of time alone lately. Even more than usual.”

 

“The nature of my job is isolating,” I pointed out. “I must maintain a certain amount of distance from my crew in order to remain objective.”

 

“A certain amount, yes,” Kahn said. “But you still need to socialize. When was the last time you had a conversation with someone that wasn’t work-related? Or went somewhere that wasn’t a meeting or a briefing?”

 

“The day before yesterday,” I said. “I went to a museum on Coruscant and had a very enjoyable evening.”

 

“But you went alone.”

 

“I invited Vanto to join me. He declined.”

 

“Did you invite any other senior staff?”

 

I paused, caught up short. “No,” I admitted.

 

“Why not?”

 

I was silent for a few moments, trying to decide on the best response to her question. For most humans, it didn’t matter that I spoke their language, adhered to their customs, or wore the uniform of an Imperial officer. I was still an alien, and not a common alien like a Rodian or a Duros or a Hutt, but a species almost no one had ever heard of, from a place no one had seen in a thousand years. In most parts of the galaxy the Chiss were steeped in legend and myth, which led many people to view me with apprehension, even those who had known me a long while. I had little doubt that forcing members of my crew to spend time with me off duty would make most of them quite uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to tell Dr. Kahn that. It would only make her more determined to prove me wrong.

 

“I did not wish to inconvenience them,” I said at last.

 

 _Kahn tilts her head to the side, her expression holding skepticism._ “Spending an evening on Coruscant doesn’t seem like much of an inconvenience. I for one would welcome the chance to get away from work for a while.”

 

“Spending an evening with your commanding officer hardly qualifies as a stress-reliever,” I said dryly.

 

“You think too little of yourself, Admiral,” Kahn chided. “You're a fascinating fellow. And a delight to talk to.”

 

“Flattery will only get you so far, doctor.”

 

 _Kahn smiles, but there is a steely glint in her eyes. I realize that she is not going to drop the subject, no matter how much I try to distract her._ “I don’t need to flatter you, Admiral. I’m the chief medical officer. When it comes to matters of health, I outrank every other person on this ship, including you.”

 

I sighed. “Are you giving me an order, then?”

 

“A recommendation,” she said. “We’re going to be on the _Chimaera_ for a long time. We might as well get to know each other. The next time you plan an outing, invite us along. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. And you’ll be giving Commander Vanto the chance to spend time with other people as well. I think he needs that as much as you do.”

 

Much as I hated to admit it, Kahn had a point. For a long time, Vanto was my only friend, and over the years I’d gotten used to relying on him, not only for translation and cultural guidance, but for socializing as well. This was perfectly fine when we were serving in similar capacities, but our roles were different now. It wasn’t fair to keep pulling him away from the friendships he’d started to cultivate aboard the _Chimaera_ simply because I had none of my own. Besides, our interests and hobbies were drastically different. I preferred having conversations in quiet places such as museums and restaurants, while he liked socializing in noisy environments like bars and common rooms. I practiced martial arts and designed starfighters in my spare time; he played holo games and watched sporting events in his. Perhaps it would be beneficial for us both to expand our social circles.

 

“Very well,” I said after a pause. “I will consider your suggestion.”

 

“Good,” Kahn said, looking pleased. “Now, let’s get started on the blood draw. Have you eaten anything yet this morning?”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Get something while I set up, okay? We don’t want you fainting in the middle of the morning briefing.”

 

“No,” I agreed. “That would be quite inefficient.” I got up from the sofa and went over to the galley. The container of food Neesha had given me two nights ago was still in the refrigerator. I pulled it out and peeled back the lid, trying not to grimace at the cold lump of congealed meat and potatoes. I spooned some on a plate and put it into the microheater.

 

“Water, too,” Kahn called.

 

“Of course.” I poured a large glass of water, then took it and the warmed plate over to the sofa. I ate slowly, watching Kahn set up the equipment needed for the procedure― tourniquet, needle, tubing, plastic bag, collapsible IV pole.

 

Biologically, my people were nearly identical to humans, but there were a few significant differences. The most important distinction was that my body responded far more slowly to most standard Imperial treatments― namely, bacta. Although it was quite effective with the vast majority of species throughout the galaxy, bacta took nearly twice as long to heal my wounds. Dr. Kahn had a few theories as to why this might be, but since I was her only patient and had extremely limited contact with the Ascendancy, there was no way to test whether this phenomenon affected all Chiss or only myself. My people used many different substances to treat injuries, both internal and external, but I did not know the methods used to produce them or any of their chemical properties. Even if I did, it was a long way to the Unknown Regions, and unlikely that I could acquire the necessary resources and training to create my own. For the time being, I had to make do with what I had. And so every other month, the medical officer drew a unit of my blood and stored it in the small medical bay adjacent to the bridge. Because my blood was incompatible with that of humans, the supply acted as a safeguard in case I ever needed an emergency transfusion. With the exception of Captain Faro and Vanto, no one else aboard knew about this arrangement, and I intended to keep it that way. In the wrong hands, such information could be deadly.

 

“All right,” Kahn said once I’d finished eating and set my plate aside. “Ready?”

 

I nodded and held out my arm. Kahn wrapped the tourniquet around it tightly. My veins stood out in vivid detail, purple webs crisscrossing across my skin. The doctor swabbed the inside of my forearm with a sterile cloth and then picked up the needle.

 

“It still makes you queasy, doesn’t it?” Kahn asked. She must have noticed the tense expression on my face.

 

“Yes,” I answered. “Although I still do not understand why.”

 

“No one knows for certain,” she said. “Some people think it’s purely psychological, while others think it’s biological.”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“I think it’s both,” Kahn answered. “Our bodies know instinctively that losing blood is very dangerous. Being unconscious slows our heart rate and lowers our blood pressure, so it’s a good way of protecting ourselves. But your body doesn’t know that you’re losing blood in a controlled way. It just thinks you’re in danger. So your brain triggers that fight or flight response, which causes that queasy feeling in your gut.”

 

“Interesting,” I said, and then glanced down. To my surprise, the needle was already in my arm. I looked back up at Kahn.

 

“Didn’t feel it go in, did you?” the doctor said, grinning. “Another little trick of mine. You were so busy listening to me that you forgot to watch what I was doing. The brain can only focus on so much at a time.”

 

“Misdirection,” I said. “I have used it many times in combat.”

 

“Well, now you know it works in medicine as well.” Kahn held the needle steady, watching the dark purple blood slowly moving through the tube and into the plastic bag. “What are you doing for exercise lately?” she asked. “Still mostly sparring practice?”

 

I knew she was trying to take my mind off the procedure, so I made an concentrated effort to pay attention. “Usually thirty minutes to an hour each day,” I said.

 

“You may want to vary the routine a bit,” she said. “Strengthen different muscle groups. Too much repetitive movement wears on the joints. Try running or swimming a couple times per week instead.”

 

“I shall do so.”

 

“Good.” A few moments’ silence passed, and then Kahn cleared her throat. “Since I’ve got you here,” she said, “I have a favor to ask.”

 

“Taking advantage of my weakened state,” I observed. “How shrewd of you. What is it?”

 

“I wasn’t expecting to have an extra day on Coruscant,” Kahn said. “My girls are off school today, and I’d like to spend as much time as possible with them before shipping out. Would you mind if I used some personal leave so I could go see them?”

 

“Of course,” I said. “Take all the time you need. You may even bring them aboard if you wish.”

 

“I’ll do that. Thank you, sir.” _A warm, soft expression appears on Kahn’s face. She is thinking about her daughters, about seeing them one last time before leaving home. The look in her eyes sends a sharp ache through my chest._

 

“Do you think you could arrange for a tour?” the doctor asked after a few moments.

 

“A tour?”

 

“Of the _Chimaera_ ,” she explained. “They’ve never been aboard a Star Destroyer before. It would be incredibly exciting for them to see places like the bridge and the engine room.”

 

“Certainly,” I said. “I will arrange for a member of the senior staff to give them a tour later this morning.”

 

Kahn smiled. “Actually,” she said, “I was hoping _you_ could be the one to give us a tour.”

 

“Me?” I said, startled.

 

“You’re the commander of the ship. Who would be better?”

 

A queasy feeling, completely unrelated to the blood drawing, was beginning to take hold of my insides. I’d had a few encounters with children of Imperial officers before. None of them had gone well.

 

“I have little experience with children,” I said carefully. “Vanto would be a better person for such a task. He has a young niece and nephew whom he visits regularly.”

 

“You see,” Kahn said. _Her expression is once again stern._ “This is exactly what I was referring to earlier. Putting up walls, isolating yourself. You need to let more people in.”

 

“You said nothing about spending time with children,” I protested. “Only with members of my crew.”

 

“I’m a member of your crew,” Kahn pointed out. “And I’m requesting a tour from the _Chimaera_ ’s commander. Are you really going to deny my girls the chance to meet a Navy Admiral?”

 

I sighed, feeling my resistance draining away along with my blood. If Kahn really wanted to put her children through a potentially traumatizing ordeal, that was entirely her decision. I would simply have to endure it along with them.

 

“Very well,” I said. “Bring them to my office after the morning briefing. Vanto can handle the details.”

 

***

 

They arrived shortly after 0900― Kahn, Vanto, and two young girls, both with brown skin and dark features like their mother’s. They came into my office talking animatedly, dancing around Vanto, who looked slightly overwhelmed by their energy. I rose to my feet, surprised at how nervous I felt.

 

“Greetings, doctor,” I said.

 

“Hello, sir,” Dr. Kahn said, grinning broadly. She put one hand on each of the girls’ shoulders and gently turned them towards me. “I’d like you to meet my daughters, Hana and Rylie. Girls, this is Admiral Thrawn, commander of the ship.”

 

“Honored,” I said, inclining my head towards each of them.

 

Both children gazed at me for a long moment. I braced myself for the usual reactions― crying, cowering, terrified glances― but there were none. Their expressions were solemn, but their eyes held no fear, only a lively interest. Then the smaller girl marched forward and pointed up at my face with a small, chubby finger.

 

"You have red eyes," she observed.

 

"Yes," I replied, unsure how else to respond.

“They’re pretty,” the girl said. “I wish I had red eyes.”

 

Vanto suppressed a chuckle.

 

“That is kind of you to say,” I said gravely. “Many people find them frightening.”

 

“Not me,” the girl announced, shaking her head, her pigtails flapping back and forth. “I think they’re pretty. Why are they red?”

 

“I do not know,” I said. “It is simply their color.”

 

She seemed to find that answer acceptable. "My friend Kaas has blue skin like yours,” she said after a moment. “She's a Pantoran. Are you a Pantoran?"

  
Her lack of fear suddenly made far more sense. She was accustomed to being around aliens. Most likely she and her sister attended one of the public schools on Coruscant, which were usually quite diverse. I wondered what had led Kahn to make such a decision. Most Imperial officers chose to send their children to all-human private academies or military youth programs.

 

"No," I replied. "I am a Chiss."

 

"What's a Chiss?"

 

"An alien species from the Unknown Regions.”

 

“Where are the Unknown Regions?”

 

“Rylie,” Dr. Kahn admonished gently. “Let the man catch his breath.”

 

“You’re asking too many questions, Rylie,” the older girl said in a loud whisper.

 

“I am not,” Rylie retorted. “I’m asking the exact right amount of questions.”

 

“Well, sir,” Vanto said, a slight smile on his face. “I think I’ll leave you to it. Have fun.”

 

“What do you say, girls?” Kahn prompted.

 

“Thank you, Eli,” they both said in chorus.

 

Vanto grinned and touched his cap, then left the room.

 

“Thank you so much for agreeing to this,” Kahn said.

 

“It seems I had little choice in the matter,” I said dryly. “But you are welcome.”

 

“Rylie, don’t touch that,” her sister exclaimed.

 

We both turned around to see the younger girl reaching for the glass sphere sitting on my desk. Quickly I crossed the room and picked it up out of harm’s way.

 

“I wasn’t going to break it,” Rylie said defensively. “I just wanted to look at it.”

 

I considered her for a moment. Then I squatted down next to her, cradling the sphere in both hands.

 

“If you are very careful,” I said, “you may hold it. Would you like to?”

 

Rylie nodded solemnly. Slowly I placed the sphere, which was about the size of a pichi fruit, into her small hands.

 

“What’s it for?” she asked. “What does it do?”

 

“Hundreds of years ago, the Q’doni people used spheres like this to navigate through very deep underground caverns,” I explained. “They are made of a special stone that glows in the dark.”

 

“I want to see,” she said. “Can you make it dark?”

 

“Of course,” I answered, straightening up. I went over to the control panel, flicked a switch, and the entire room was plunged into darkness.

 

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then slowly, a faint ball of light appeared, illuminating Rylie’s face. She grinned with delight.

 

After that, the girls became far more interested in seeing all the artifacts and artwork in my office than the rest of the ship. Dr. Kahn seemed content to let her daughters steer the conversation, although she would occasionally intervene if they started becoming too boisterous. I took my cue from her and allowed the girls to roam freely around the room, observing which objects drew their attention and which did not. Rylie tended to gravitate towards the tangible pieces, the ones made of wood or stone or metal, anything she could pick up or touch. Hana, the older one, liked pictures best― paintings, engravings, carvings, especially those that represented people or animals. Both of them had a bottomless supply of questions. What was this piece for? How did it work? What was it made of? How was it made? Why did the artist choose to make it that way? I answered them as best I could, expecting their curiosity would quickly fade, but my explanations only prompted more questions. I now understood why Vanto had looked so worn out― the girls had probably put him through a similar ordeal on their way up to my office. Nevertheless, I was greatly enjoying myself. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and their interactions with each other highly entertaining. More than once I saw Dr. Kahn fighting the urge to laugh at something they said or did.

 

“What else would you like to see?” Kahn said at last. “We’ve got a whole ship to explore and not much time left.”

 

“Bridge,” Hana said.

 

“Engines,” Rylie said at the same time.

 

“You don’t want to see where your mother works?” I inquired.

 

Both girls shook their heads. “That’s boring,” Hana said.

 

Dr. Kahn rolled her eyes. “They saw far too many medical bays and operating rooms when I was working at Coruscant Medical. It’s old news. Bridge or engine room, girls. We only have time for one.”

 

“Engines,” Rylie repeated. “I want to see what makes the ship go.”

 

“The bridge is more interesting,” Hana said. “That’s where all the people work.”

 

“There’s people in the engine room, too,” Rylie countered.

 

“Okay,” Kahn said, clearly sensing an argument was imminent. “Let’s think of a fair way to decide.”

 

“How much time do you have left?” I asked her.

 

“Most of the day,” Kahn said. “But you’ve got a busy schedule and we’ve already spent an hour here.”

 

“I will move some appointments around,” I said. “The bridge and engine room are equally important. They should not miss either one.”

 

Both girls beamed up at me, but Kahn looked rather hesitant. “You don’t have to do that, sir,” she said.

 

“Of course I do not have to,” I replied. “But I would like to.”

 

***

 

Two hours later, after we had walked around the bridge, visited the engine room, and seen the inside of both a TIE fighter and an AT-ST walker, the girls were finally showing signs of exhaustion.

 

“I’m tired,” Hana complained. “My feet hurt.”

 

“My feet hurt too,” Rylie said.

 

“Congratulations, Admiral,” Kahn said, looking amused. “You’ve worn them both out.”

 

“It has been a busy morning,” I said. “I imagine you are hungry.” Both girls nodded vigorously. “In that case, let us go up to the galley and see if Neesha has something in store.”

 

As I expected, Neesha was nearly overcome with joy by having two small visitors. “Why didn’t you tell me your daughters were visiting, doctor?” she shouted. “I would have made some sweets.”

 

“We didn’t know we’d be here this long,” Kahn said, glancing at me. “The Admiral’s been very generous with his time.”

 

“You’re shorter than me,” Rylie said to Neesha.

 

“Yes, but I’m far older,” Neesha said, grinning.

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Rylie,” her mother said gently. “It’s not nice to ask people how old they are.”

 

“That’s all right,” Neesha said. “I’m sixty-three in human years. And I have nine children and twenty-five grandchildren.”

 

“Do they live here?” Rylie asked, looking around.

 

Neesha laughed. “No,” she said. “Most of them live on Aleen.”

 

“I know where that is,” Hana exclaimed. “In the Mid-Rim.”

 

“Very good,” Neesha said, beaming. “Now let’s get you both some lunch.”

 

Ten minutes later, Hana and Ryle were seated at the large table, short legs dangling while Neesha served them soup and sandwiches. Gradually, the rest of the senior staff trickled in, some staying only for a few minutes to grab a sandwich, others taking time to sit down and eat a full meal. By this time, word gotten around that Dr. Kahn’s children were aboard, so most of the staff didn’t look surprised to see them in the dining room.

 

Lieutenant Balik, however, appeared to have missed the memo. When the science officer entered the room at half-past twelve, she stopped dead at the sight of the girls, looking utterly bemused.

 

“Lieutenant,” I greeted her. “Perhaps you did not hear that Dr. Kahn’s daughters are visiting us today.”

 

“No, sir,” Balik replied, moving cautiously into the room. “I wasn’t aware.”

 

Vanto, who was sitting across from the girls, pointed at Balik with his spoon. “That’s Senior Lieutenant Balik, girls,” he said. “She’s our science officer.”

 

“You’re very tall,” Rylie said, looking up at her.

 

“You’re very short,” Balik replied. She sat down at the end of the table, as far away from the children as possible, and took a sandwich from the serving platter.

 

“That’s because I’m five,” Rylie said cheerfully. “My sister’s seven, and Neesha is sixty three. How old are you?”

 

“Rylie,” Hana said in a perfect imitation of their mother. “It’s not nice to ask people that, remember?”

 

“That’s only for old people,” Rylie said dismissively. “She’s not old.”

 

Both Dr. Kahn and Vanto pressed their lips together, trying not to laugh. Both girls looked expectantly at Balik, who was slowly eating her sandwich.

 

“So?” Rylie said. “How old are you?”

 

Balik raised her head, looking slightly incredulous. “Twenty-two,” she said after a pause.

 

“Oh,” Rylie said. “That’s old.”

 

“It is not,” Balik said irritably as Vanto let out a snort of laughter.

 

“Yes, it is,” Rylie said.

 

“No, it isn’t,” Balik snapped. “It’s quite young for an officer.”

 

“Could I be an officer, then?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because you’re _too_ young,” Balik said shortly.

 

“How old do you have to be to be an officer?” Hana asked.

 

“It depends,” Vanto said. “If you enroll in a youth program, you can probably make lieutenant by eighteen or nineteen.”

 

“That’s what I want to do,” Hana said. “I think I’ll be a pilot.”

 

“That is a challenging career path,” I said. “You will need to log a great many flight hours.”

 

“I can do it,” Hana said, lifting her chin.

 

“I have no doubt you can,” I replied.

 

Balik rolled her eyes and continued eating.

 

“Why is your arm missing?” Rylie asked after a few moments.

 

Balik paused with her sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Because I kept interrupting people while they were trying to eat lunch,” she said.

 

Rylie giggled. “You’re funny.”

 

“Do you have any animals on the ship?” Hana asked, turning to me.

 

“Animals?” I repeated. “No. Only people.”

 

“What about Blip?” Vanto asked.

 

“Who’s Blip?” Rylie asked.

 

“He is a ysalamir lizard that I keep in my quarters,” I said. “But he is very shy and not used to visitors. I think it would be best if we left him alone.”

 

“I’d be very careful,” Hana said. “Please?”

 

I shook my head. “Perhaps another time.”

 

“Actually,” Vanto said suddenly, “I think Lieutenant Balik has some animals in her lab you could see. Don’t you, Lieutenant?”

 

Balik’s head snapped up and her eyes narrowed. _Vanto tilts his head slightly, a satisfied smirk on his face._

 

“What kind of animals?” Hana asked eagerly.

 

“Mice, if I recall correctly,” Vanto said. _He continues to smirk, and I suddenly realize what he is doing. He is taking revenge. Forcing Balik into a situation she finds both uncomfortable and inconvenient, as punishment for undermining my authority, for daring to question my orders. I should be appalled at his pettiness, but instead, I feel a sense of pride. His approach to vengeance is both subtle and creative, much like my own._

 

“Oh please Mummy, can we see the mice?” Hana implored, turning to Kahn.

 

“I think that’s up to Lieutenant Balik,” Kahn answered, glancing at the science officer.

 

All of us looked at Balik, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. “They’re not pets,” she said. “They’re test subjects. You can’t play with them.”

 

“We won’t play with them,” Hana said. “We’ll just look. Please?”

 

“Please?” Rylie echoed.

 

“I wish I could,” Balik said, “but I’m very busy right now.”

 

“Really?” Vanto said, cocking his head. “Because Lieutenant Grey told me that you’re almost finished with the retrofit.”

 

Balik glared at him. “Hardly,” she said. “There’s still equipment to install and systems to upgrade.”

 

“Oh, you can do that en route,” Vanto said. “These lovely young ladies are only here for another hour or so.”

 

“That is an excellent idea,” I said evenly. “Take them on a tour of the lab, and then you may return to work.”

 

Balik glanced at me, her expression almost pleading. “Sir…” she began.

 

“Flexibility, Lieutenant,” I reminded her.

 

Balik’s shoulders slumped, and she sat back in her chair, looking utterly defeated. “Yes, sir,” she muttered.

 

***

 

Later that evening, after the _Chimaera_ had departed Coruscant and was en route to Esseles, I summoned Lieutenant Balik to my office. She arrived a few minutes later, looking completely exhausted and more than a little irritated.

 

“How was the tour?” I inquired.

 

Balik’s jaw tightened. “They broke my centrifuge,” she said.

 

I did my best not to smile. “That is unfortunate,” I said. “I will ensure that Dr. Kahn pays for a replacement.”

 

“She already did, sir.”

 

“Ah. Good.” I glanced down at the datapad in my hand. “I have received word that the research team will be arriving on Tralee Base at 0800 local time. I would like you to meet them at the information terminal and escort them up to the _Chimaera_. I would also like you to give them a brief tour of their quarters, the mess hall, the lab, and any other important locations. That will likely take most of the morning. When the tour is complete, bring them to the dining room for lunch and I will meet you there.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Balik said.

 

“I know this is not easy for you,” I said. “I would like you to know that I appreciate your efforts.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” she said. _The tension in her jaw lessens. She is mollified, at least for the moment._

 

“Dismissed.”

 

Balik saluted, then turned on her heel and walked towards the door, but it slid open before she could reach it.

 

Vanto walked into the office, but his eyes were fixed on the datapad in his hands, and as a result, he nearly ran into Balik, who had stopped in the middle of the floor. He jumped and stepped backward, his face reddening.

 

“Sorry, sir,” he said. “I’ll come back.”

 

“No need,” I said, waving him in. “We are finished. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Balik said, but she made no move to leave. She was gazing thoughtfully at Vanto, who was looking back at her with a nervous expression. “Sir, with your permission, I’d like to bring Commander Vanto along tomorrow,” she said after a brief pause.

 

“What?” Vanto said sharply. “Bring me where?”

 

Balik gave him a slightly twisted smile. “Down to Tralee Base,” she said. “To greet the research team. As the Admiral’s aide, I think it would be highly appropriate for you to represent his office during our tour.”

 

“Hold on,” Vanto said. “Shepherding the scientists around is _your_ job, remember?”

 

“Of course it is,” Balik said smoothly. “But I’ve only been here for a couple of days. I’m still getting my bearings. And I certainly don’t know enough about the ship to answer all their questions about it. Having you along would be a great help to me.”

 

Vanto stared at her. _His expression holds sudden realization. It appears Balik knows a thing or two about revenge as well._

 

I surveyed the two of them for a moment― the tall, gangly lieutenant towering over the short, scrawny commander, both glaring at each other with barely concealed contempt. Such contrast, yet such similarity.

 

“Very well,” I said. “Commander, please accompany Lieutenant Balik down to the base tomorrow at 0800. I am sure you will make an excellent team.”


	9. Unprepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting up on Esseles, Tessa and Shell have their first encounter with Imperial forces.
> 
> Warning: Sexual content.

I was done with sex, I decided, as I gazed out at the fleet of Imperial warships encircling Esseles like a swarm of metal hornets. It was nothing but an emotional minefield, fraught with anxiety and dashed expectations, and I’d had enough of it. From now on I was going to focus one hundred percent on my work and ignore all offers of romance― assuming I would get any on this trip, which was doubtful. No member of the Imperial Navy was going to look twice at a scruffy civilian scientist, and that was probably a good thing. It would be better for me to spend the next year and a half just exploring the Outback, spending time with Shell and Bennett, and pondering my next career move. No temptations, no distractions, no bad decisions born of loneliness or self-pity.

 

The decision had been slowly brewing in the back of my mind ever since I’d left Reena, and my night with Xani was what set it in motion. Nothing had gone the way I imagined. I arrived at the pub a little after midnight, expecting him to tear my clothes off as soon as I walked in the door, but instead I found him in the basement, ankle-deep in water and cursing like a sailor. Apparently the Gloil’s previous owner hadn’t bothered to seal the cracks in the foundation before selling, so the heavy spring rains had completely flooded the building’s lower level. I was appalled that Xani hadn’t requested an inspection of the property before signing the deed, but as with most _chakana_ business deals, it was based on good faith rather than paper. There was no point in lecturing him about it, so I simply rolled up my sleeves and helped him bail out the rest of the water. By the time we finished, it was nearly two o’clock in the morning and Xani was too tired to do anything besides stagger upstairs and crawl into bed. He fell asleep almost instantly, but I lay awake for a long time, curled up beside him, listening to his snores, tense and miserable from so much pent-up sexual energy.

 

At some point during the night, I took out my comlink and just stared at it for a while, imagining what might happen if I keyed it on and entered Thrawn’s number. Would he answer? If he did, what would I say? That I was thinking about him? That I wanted to see him again? _Did_ I want to see him again? My mind wandered back to the museum, to that wonderful discussion we’d had, flowing from one topic to the next, asking questions, exchanging ideas. The entire evening had been like a dream, floating through a sensuous haze, drinking in sights and sounds and tastes and smells, a pleasant tension occupying the space between us. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a conversation with someone who was actually _listening_ to me, not just waiting for his turn to speak. Someone who was genuinely interested in what I had to say, who encouraged me to keep talking. The way Thrawn’s eyes had zeroed in on my face, focusing intently on my words, the way he tilted his head to the side, the way he smiled― oh dear God, his _smile_ ― all of it was like being wrapped up in something warm and soft, sending delicious tingles down my spine.

 

Eventually, reason won out and I forced myself to put the comlink away. Yes, it was a wonderful night, one I would remember for the rest of my life, but if I tried to make anything more out of it, I would just end up being disappointed. I decided that unless Thrawn reached out to me, I wouldn't pursue the matter any further.

 

I also decided that I needed to end things with Xani, for his sake as well as mine. It wasn't fair of me to keep using him for sex whenever I got lonely or wanted to rebel against my family. He deserved to be with someone who came home every day instead of every few years, someone who would love him for who he was, rather than who they wished him to be. In the morning I would tell him, kindly but firmly, that it was over. Then at long last, we could both begin to move on.

 

But that didn't go as planned, either. At first light I awoke to Xani planting soft kisses all along my neck and shoulders, and just like that, all rational thought exited my brain. He was clearly determined to make up for last night, and as soon as I felt his erect cock pressing into the small of my back and heard the soft, sultry growls rumbling up in his throat, my resolve to end things crumbled. We spent the next hour going at it like a pair of banthas in heat― and making almost as much noise― until at last we collapsed in a sweaty tangle of sheets, gasping for air. Then I just lay there, my mind blank and slightly numb, until reason began to take hold again, and with it a sense of shame. I was weak, always letting my emotions get in the way of common sense. What was _wrong_ with me? Why did I keep doing the same stupid thing to myself over and over again? Maybe my father was right. I was impulsive, irrational, a blunt instrument that could never be honed. I didn’t deserve his seat. I couldn’t even take care of _myself_ , let alone an entire planet.

 

Despite my best efforts, I started crying― silently at first, then when Xani realized what was happening and tried to console me, I dissolved into full-out bawling. He kept asking what was wrong, if it was something he did, but I shook my head, choking out that it wasn’t his fault, that I was just about to start my period and it was probably just hormones. He seemed to accept that explanation, and spent the next few minutes cradling me in his arms, rocking me gently back and forth while I leaned my head against his chest, until at last I felt calm, or at least under control. Then I gave him a shaky smile, kissed him, and said that I should probably head home. He protested a little, but I could tell he was secretly relieved. I could hardly blame him.

 

When I arrived back at the manor, it was to discover that I wasn’t the only one who had a rough night. Mama was sitting at the kitchen table, eyes swollen and red, a pile of crumpled tissues in front of her. All I managed to get out of her was that my father had returned to Procopia immediately after the funeral without saying goodbye, but that was a common occurrence, one that annoyed her but rarely upset her. I knew they must have had an argument, but she refused to tell me what it was about. Instead, I was treated to a lecture about the dangers of getting involved with riffraff like that alien bartender, and how my behavior at the funeral had given the family enough gossip to last for several years. I retorted that at least I was actually _having_ sex, which I immediately regretted since it made Mama burst into fresh tears and rush out of the room. Part of me felt horrible for saying such a cruel thing, but another part of me felt she deserved it. How dare she scold me about sleeping with _chakana_ men when she’d been lusting after one for years?

 

I was so fed up with everything that I decided to leave Reena early. I stormed upstairs, packed my bags (taking all the dresses with me so Mama wouldn’t know I’d outgrown them), went down to the city spaceport and got on the next ship departing for Coruscant. Once there, I found a ship going to Esseles, a tiny Rigger-class freighter more suited for hauling cargo than passengers. I really should have taken a commuter transport like Shell, but it cost over a hundred credits, and since I’d already used up most of my savings to buy the comm equipment for Yixa and Kiro, I had very few options left. Because the captain was a suspicious type and refused to let me sleep in the cockpit or her cabin, I spent the journey in the cargo hold surrounded by crates of squawking Miba hens, trying to get comfortable on a lumpy mattress that smelled suspiciously like vomit.

 

We were halfway to Esseles when I suddenly realized what I’d done. I had treated my mother exactly like Baba did. I’d left her alone in that big empty house without a word of apology, or even a cursory goodbye. Further proof, if any was needed, that I was a coward at heart, just like him.

 

***

 

My first thought when I stepped out of the freighter was how _hot_ it was. Esseles was covered with oceans and numerous active volcanoes, which gave the entire planet a heavy, humid climate. Even though it was the middle of the night, the air was still thick and muggy. It hit me in the face like a soft, wet blanket, along with several dozen buzzing insects that were overjoyed to discover fresh meat in their midst. They swarmed around me as I walked down the ramp, and within seconds I had puffy bite marks scattered all over my cheeks and forehead. Lovely.

 

I heard a sudden thumping sound coming from the rear of the ship. Continuing to swat away bugs, I walked around the corner and saw Captain Monzu tossing my bags unceremoniously out the rear hatch.

 

“Be careful!” I cried, darting forward. “Some of those are extremely fragile.”

 

Monzu straightened up, her head tendrils twitching back and forth. Feeorins were notoriously bad-tempered, but this one had taken the word “grumpy” to entirely new level.

 

“You do not pay me enough to be careful,” she growled in broken Basic. “What is more, you scare my hens so they will not lay for a week. Now I have no eggs to sell.”

 

“I didn’t scare your hens,” I said, incensed. “It was your damned cat.”

 

Monzu made a hissing sound and I shrank back a few steps. “Fluffy is in cockpit the entire time,” she snarled. “He is good cat. You are bad girl. Scare my hens. Pay me next to nothing. I should sue you for damages.”

 

I stared at her for a second, and then something inside me snapped. I was exhausted, covered in grime, sweaty, itchy, and to top it off, I was now taking the blame for something a cat had done. I’d had enough.

 

“You’re a piece of _bukshra_ , you know that?” I shouted. “First you overcharge me, then you make me sleep on a mattress that smells like someone died on it, then you throw my bags on duracrete, and now you accuse _me_ of scaring your hens when we both know it was that little monster. I ought to sue _you_ for damages.”

 

Monzu looked mildly surprised by my outburst. Then she snorted. “Get out of my sight, human,” she said, throwing the last bag at me and walking back up the ramp.

 

I was tempted to throw something at her, but I still had enough sense to know that would be a very bad idea. Instead, I waited until she was a safe distance away and then yelled after her, “Fluffy is _not_ a good cat. He’s an ugly, mean, stupid cat and he stinks. Your hens stink, your ship stinks, and _you_ stink.”

 

Monzu ignored me until she reached the top of the ramp. Then she turned around.

 

“And now you stink, too, human,” she called, and then bellowed with laughter as the ramp closed.

 

I shouted a few more insults as the freighter rose up out of the docking bay and blasted off. Then, scowling, I gathered up my bags and trudged out into the main terminal. Six more hours in this hellish heat before Shell arrived. He and Max were speeding down the Hydian Way hyperlane right now, probably asleep in a cool, quiet cabin with no chicken dung, stained mattresses, or hissing cats. I really was an idiot.

 

Except for the heat, Calamar Spaceport wasn’t much different from others I’d been to. This late at night, almost everything was closed and the main thoroughfare was deserted. Freighters and shuttles formed dark shapes inside their docking bays. Storefronts were shuttered, food carts and canteens locked up tight. Occasionally I heard the distant roar of a starship taking off or landing, but far louder were the sounds of ocean waves and insects droning.

 

I sat down on a bench and gingerly opened the case that contained my prized Crail-Wentas microscope. It seemed intact, but it was hard to know for certain until I had better light. Scowling, I closed the case and stuffed it underneath the bench along with my other bags. Then I trussed them together with a wire cable. They were all fitted with mag-locks, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I stretched out on the bench, using my rucksack as a pillow, and dozed off, taking some comfort in the image of Fluffy scratching Captain Monzu’s eyes out while she slept.

 

***

 

I awoke to the feeling of something wet and smelly licking my face. I groaned and turned away, squeezing my eyes shut against the bright sun.

 

“Come on, Max,” a familiar drawling voice said. “Wake her up. Come on.”

 

I heard a whine. Then something heavy butted against my shoulder, and I finally opened my eyes. Max’s huge, furry face was centimeters away from mine, his tongue flopping out and his entire body wriggling with joy. Shell was standing behind him, along with a hoversled piled high with packing crates.

 

“You look like stang,” he said cheerfully.

 

“Thanks a lot.” I sat up, wincing as a spasm went through my lower back.

 

“Easy.” He grasped my hand and pulled me up from the bench. “Rough trip?”

 

“The worst.”

 

“Need a hug?”

 

I nodded, feeling a bit like a small child waking up after a nap, and he put his arms around me. I closed my eyes and leaned against him, taking comfort in his solid, stocky form. Shell. My friend, my anchor, the voice of reason. The one who cut me down to size when I got cocky and boosted my morale when things got tough. The pessimist to my optimist, the calm to my chaos, the one I couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard I tried, and eventually, the one I couldn’t imagine living without.

 

“Whew,” Shell said after we broke apart. “You smell like stang, too.”

 

“Oh, shut up.” I smacked him on the shoulder. “Did you go through customs already?”

 

He nodded. “I had to explain to those idiots what dog food is half a dozen times. ‘No, it’s not an explosive. No, it’s not spice. It’s just dehydrated meat.’ But we made it. Everything’s here.” He patted the hoversled. “All stamped with the Imperial seal of approval, whatever that’s worth.”

 

“Did you remember spare parts for the scanner?”

 

“Yes,” he answered.

 

“What about sample tubes?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Extra power packs?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Climbing gear?”

 

“No, I forgot that.”

 

“Shell!”

 

“I’m kidding.”

 

“Not funny,” I snapped. “This isn’t some weekend getaway. We can’t just fly to the nearest outpost and pick up supplies when we run out. Once we’re in the Outback, we’re on our own.”

 

“You know the Navy will supply most of what we need,” he said.

 

“If their equipment is anything like their administration,” I said grimly, “I don’t trust it one bit.”

 

“Fair enough.” Shell glanced around the spaceport, which was now bustling with activity. “Let’s get some caf. I need to wake up.”

 

“Do we have time?”

 

“Plenty. It’s only six-thirty.”

 

In a few minutes, we were seated at a table, two iced caf drinks in front of us. I sipped mine slowly, savoring the cold, while Shell took out Max’s travel bowl and filled it with water. He slurped it up gratefully, then lay down at our feet, panting. I watched the travelers passing by, wondering where they all came from and where they were going.

 

“So your trip was horrible?” Shell asked after we’d sat in silence for a while.

 

“Ugh.” I made a face. “I don’t _ever_ want to go back home.”

 

Shell raised an eyebrow. “It couldn’t have been that bad. At least you got some action.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“That thing on your neck,” he said, smirking. “I’m guessing that’s not a bug bite.”

 

I clapped a hand over the spot, blushing furiously. Xani must have nipped me a lot harder than I thought.

 

“It was that guy, wasn’t it?” Shell asked. “That half-Zabrak dude you always hook up with whenever you go home.”

 

There was no point in denying it. Shell could always tell when I was lying. “Yes,” I admitted, turning up my collar to hide the mark. “But I’d rather not talk about it.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“It’s private,” I said primly.

 

“Since when do we have secrets? Tell me everything.”

 

“No.”

 

“Come on.”

 

“No!”

 

“I’ll give you a cig.” Shell took a pack of cigarras out of his pocket and held it out, shaking the box slightly so I could hear the rattle. “You know you want one.”

 

“What’s the point? They won’t let us smoke on the ship.”

 

“Which is why you should have one now.” Shell opened the box and shook it slightly. A cigarra slid out into his palm, thin and white with a ring of red-gold paper around the middle. I gazed at it longingly.

 

“Blaze or Red Venom?” I asked after a moment.

 

“Blaze,” Shell said. “Red Venom’s gotten too expensive.”

 

I hesitated a moment more. I’d quit smoking years ago and most of the time had no trouble resisting the temptation, but during periods of high stress, it became far more difficult.

 

“Okay,” I said finally, draining the last bit of caf from my glass. “Just one, though.”

 

Shell grinned and handed me the cigarra. I put it between my lips, leaning forward so he could light the end for me. I took a deep drag and closed my eyes as the familiar taste wafted across my tongue. I savored it slowly, letting the smoke roll around in my mouth for a few moments. Rich and woody, with just a hint of spicy sweetness.

 

“So what do you want to know?” I said after I’d taken a few puffs.

 

“I told you,” he said, taking another cigarra out for himself.“Everything. Anything, really. I haven’t had sex in three months. I need details. Did he go down on you? Did you go down on him? How many times? Was there roleplay involved? Most importantly, how was his dick?”

 

I snorted with laughter, then started coughing as the smoke caught in my throat. “His dick was fine,” I said when I’d recovered. “It always is.”

 

“And the other stuff?”

 

I gave a half-shrug. “He tried going down on me. But he was just so... cautious about it. I think he’s afraid of hurting me. His teeth are pretty sharp.”

 

“Please,” Shell scoffed. “I’ve had a full-blooded Zabrak suck me off before and I’m still in one piece. He needs to get over himself.”

 

“For someone who doesn’t have a vagina, you’re awfully opinionated on this subject.”

 

“I don’t need one to know that a man ought to please his woman in whatever way she wants.” Shell took another drag of his cigarra. “My opinion is, if a guy is lucky enough to sleep with you once, he better make damned sure you want to do it again. Next time, tell him this goes both ways. If he doesn’t go down on you, you don't go down on him. That’ll change his tune _real_ quick.”

 

I smiled ruefully. “If all men thought the way you do, Dr. Shelton, the galaxy would have far fewer problems.”

 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Shell said. “Frack alternative energy. What we need is more sex.”

 

“I don’t think there’s going to be much of that where we’re going.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Shell’s eyes widened. “Tessa, I don’t think you realize just how many men are going to be on our ship.”

 

“We don’t even know what kind of ship it is yet.”

 

“That doesn’t matter,” he said. “Men outnumber women ten to one in the Navy. Even if it’s a tiny freighter, we’ll still have plenty of options.”

 

“We’re here to work,” I said irritably. “Not sleep around.”

 

“I didn’t agree to that.”

 

“Seriously, Shell. I need a break from sex.”

 

“No, you don’t. You need a break from _bad_ sex.”

 

“It wasn’t bad,” I said defensively.

 

“It wasn’t good, either,” he said. “I can tell that just from your voice. No, you need some good sex, and the Navy’s just the place to find it.”

 

“They’re nothing but a bunch of boys, Shell.”

 

“Not all of them. I’ll bet you anything there’s a handsome, forty-year-old officer on board who’d jump at the chance to date a lovely lady like yourself.”

 

“A forty-year-old guy who’s still single?” I made a face. “Pass.”

 

“A thirty-year-old, then.”

 

“I’m telling you, I’m done with sex.”

 

Shell held up his hands. “Whatever you say. Just know that _I’m_ not going to be participating in your little embargo, and I don’t think Bennett will be, either. He’ll have fewer options, seeing as how he likes women. But who knows? Maybe there’ll be some nice thirty-year-olds for him, too.”

 

“Stop,” I implored. “He’s like my grandfather, for God’s sake. Change of subject, please.”

 

“Fine.” Shell grinned, tossed his cigarra butt to the ground, and crushed it under his heel. “I’ve been thinking about the best way to get out to the base from here.”

 

“And?”

 

“What would you think about hitching a ride on a Navy transport?”

 

I frowned. “You think they’d let us on board? I mean, being civilians and all?”

 

“I don’t see why not,” Shell said. “We’re technically employed by the Navy. Let’s find one going out to Tralee and see if they’ll give us a ride. It’s worth a shot at least. Otherwise we’ll have to try and fit all this in an air-taxi.” He gestured to the hoversled. “Or use the monorail system, which won’t get us there in time.”

 

I looked at the chrono on my wrist. It was nearly 0700.

 

“Okay,” I said, trying to ignore the sudden knot in my stomach. “Let’s ask around.”

 

It wasn’t difficult to find the Navy transports. Imperial shuttles and freighters were everywhere, mostly transporting cargo and personnel. White-armored stormtroopers were everywhere― walking in formation, riding in landspeeders, monitoring security checkpoints, or just standing around. Each time we passed a trooper, the knot in my stomach tightened a little more. There were people underneath those helmets, I knew, but their stiff, jerky movements and robotic voices made them seem more like droids. Which, I supposed, was probably the point. Soldiers weren’t supposed to think for themselves. They were supposed to obey orders without question. Putting them into identical uniforms was just another way to remind them that they had no will of their own.

 

After a few minutes, Shell stopped in front of a likely-looking transport― a large, boxy ground vehicle with two laser guns mounted to the front. A pair of stormtroopers were loading cargo on the vehicle’s outer racks while another stood guard.

 

Shell didn’t seem the slightest bit afraid of them. He marched right up to the trooper standing guard and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said.

 

The trooper turned around and looked at us for a moment, then down at Max. “Yeah?” he said. His voice was tinny and robotic through the mouthpiece of his helmet, making it hard to tell whether he was irritated or just bored.

 

“Are you guys going out to Tralee Base, by any chance?” Shell asked.

 

The stormtrooper glanced at me, helmet tilted slightly. I kept my expression as neutral as possible, trying not to look at the blaster in his hands or the wrist binders hanging from his belt.

 

“Yeah,” he said after a pause. “Why?”

 

“We’re civilian contractors for the Navy,” Shell said. “We’re supposed to report to Tralee at 0800. Any chance we could hitch a ride with you?”

 

“Uh…” Another long pause. “I’ll have to ask my CO.”

 

“Sure thing,” Shell replied. “We’ll wait here.”

 

“CO?” I muttered as the trooper walked away.

 

“Commanding officer,” Shell muttered back. “Get your ID out. They’ll probably want to see it. And the IST stuff, too.”

 

Quickly I slipped off my backpack and fumbled with the zips and straps, trying to remember where I’d put my credentials and the IST data card. They were in the front pocket, wrapped in a pair of socks, and I pulled them out, surprised to see that my hands were trembling. Why was I so nervous? We were just asking for help.

 

A few seconds later the trooper walked back towards us, now accompanied by a second. This one had a piece of white leather armor strapped to his right shoulder, but other than that, he was indistinguishable from his companion.

 

“I’m Sergeant Devlin,” the new trooper said. “TX-2258 says you want a ride to the base.”

 

 _TX-2258._ They didn’t even have real names. Just letters and numbers.

 

“That’s right,” Shell answered.

 

“Do you have identification?” Devlin asked.

 

“Right here.” Shell pulled out his ID and held it out.

 

Devlin took the card and studied it. The trooper called TX-2258 leaned forward slightly, clearly trying to read over the sergeant’s shoulder.

 

“College professor, huh?” Devlin said after a moment, and even through the helmet I could hear a dryness in his tone. “You’ll fit right in.” He handed Shell’s ID back, then jerked his head at me. “I need yours, too.”

 

I handed it to him. Devlin looked at the card for a few seconds and then let out a short, barking laugh.

 

“My mistake,” he said, handing it back to me. “Make that _two_ professors. And a dog. You guys sure you’re in the right place?”

 

“Yes,” I said shortly. Annoyance was starting to replace my fear. Who did this guy think he was? “We have documentation from IST.”

 

“I’ll need to see that,” Devlin said.

 

I held out the data card. Devlin took it but didn’t look at it. Instead, he handed it to TX-2258.

 

“Run that through the computer,” he ordered. “And cross-check it against the IST database.”

 

“Yes, sir,” the trooper said, and marched up the ramp into the transport.

 

Awkward silence fell. I glanced at Shell, who gave a slight shrug. Had he expected this level of suspicion? If so, he could have at least warned me.

 

Sergeant Devlin also seemed uncomfortable. He shifted his weight, gave a small cough, then glanced down at Max, who was sitting at our feet.

 

“So,” he said. “That’s your dog, huh?”

 

“Yep,” Shell said, making no effort to disguise the pride in his voice. “His name is Max.”

 

“What kind of dog is he?”

 

“A really big one,” Shell answered. It was his stock reply whenever someone asked that question. He’d adopted Max from a shelter and neither knew nor cared what breed he was.

 

“Can he do any tricks?”

 

“Sure,” Shell answered. “But you’ll have to take that helmet off.”

 

“What?” the trooper said, sounding startled. “Why?”

 

“He won’t do tricks for people unless he can see their faces,” Shell explained.

 

Actually, this wasn’t true― Max would do pretty much anything for anyone, masked or not, as long as he got a treat afterwards― but I knew Shell well enough to realize that he was playing a little trick of his own. I suppressed a grin and watched Devlin closely, wondering what he would do.

 

The sergeant was silent for a few moments, clearly hesitating. Then slowly, he reached up and lifted the helmet off his head.

 

I was surprised. From his behavior and tone of voice, I’d pictured Devlin as a grumpy old man, but the sergeant looked no more than twenty years old― and quite handsome, if I was being honest. I felt my annoyance fade a little.

 

“Okay,” Devlin said, tucking his helmet under his arm and glancing around, probably to make sure that TX-2258 was still out of sight. “Make it quick.”

 

Shell looked down at his dog. “Max, roll over.” Max dropped down to his belly and rolled over on his back. “Up,” Shell ordered, snapping his fingers, and Max scrambled to his feet. “Down.” Max lowered himself to the pavement. “Crawl.” Max crawled forward on his belly. “Stop. Good boy.”

 

“That’s impressive,” Devlin said.

 

“Oh, he can do a lot more than that,” Shell said, pulling a treat out of his pocket and tossing it on the ground. Max wolfed it down in an instant. “But you’ll have to buy him a beer.”

 

“Sir?” TX-2258 was back, holding the data card.

 

Devlin’s head jerked round. “What?” he snapped, clearly annoyed at being caught off guard.

 

“Everything checks out,” the trooper said. “They’re cleared.”

 

“All right,” Devlin said. “Bring the squad out and load their stuff on board.”

 

“Oh, that’s okay,” I said quickly, stepping over to the hoversled. “Some of these are very fragile.”

 

“Don’t worry,” the sergeant said. “They can handle it.”

 

I stayed where I was, one hand on my microscope case. “It’s just that with some of them, you have to hold them a certain way, otherwise they get jostled around and―”

 

“Ma’am,” Devlin said patiently, “they can handle it. I’ll tell them to be careful.”

 

“But―” I began.

 

“Relax, Tess,” Shell murmured. “Let them handle it. If they break something, IST will cover the cost.” He stepped forward and gently pried my hand away from the case.

 

Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be pulled back as TX-2258 and three more stormtroopers came towards us. They stopped in front of Sergeant Devlin, apparently waiting for instructions.

 

“Load these up,” Devlin ordered, pointing at the hoversled. “And be careful. Some of them are extremely fragile.”

 

“Yes, sir,” TX-2258 said, and then paused. “Permission to remove our helmets while we load, sir?”

 

“Permission denied,” Devlin said sharply.

 

“But you took yours off, sir,” another trooper said.

 

“I took mine off because it was malfunctioning,” Devlin barked. “It’s fixed now. You and the rest of the squad will remain in full armor unless otherwise instructed. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” the stormtrooper said, sounding disappointed. I stifled a giggle.

 

Once the troopers had started unloading, Devlin put his helmet back on and turned to us. “Come with me.”

 

Wordlessly we followed him up the ramp and into the transport, Max padding at our heels. The inside was smaller than I expected. There were a few storage lockers, racks of blasters, a computer terminal, and two rows of metal seats. That was it. Definitely not designed for comfort. Everything was covered in grime and the air had a sour smell like body odor. I tried not to wrinkle my nose.

 

“Have a seat,” Devlin instructed. “We leave in fifteen minutes.”

 

“How long does it take to get to base?” I asked him, sitting down in the seat that looked cleanest.

 

“This time of day, probably about thirty minutes,” Devlin answered as his comlink buzzed. He keyed it on. “Sergeant Devlin. Yes, Commander. We are readying for departure.” He walked out of the transport, still talking.

 

Shell sat down next to me. “Beats walking,” he said. I knew he was trying to lighten my mood, so I did my best to smile.

 

Max stretched out at our feet, yawned hugely, and put his head on his paws. “Good boy,” Shell said, scratching his ears. “We’ll be there soon.”

 

After they’d finished loading the cargo, the rest of the stormtroopers filed into the transport. I’d already forgotten which one was TX-2258. One climbed into the front compartment, probably to drive the vehicle. The remaining three sat down in a row across from us, blasters balanced on their laps.

 

Sergeant Devlin came back inside. “All right, listen up,” he said loudly. “We’ve got two civilian contractors riding with us today, so I want everyone on their best behavior. Any insubordination and I will personally strap you to one of the cargo racks. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” the troopers replied, their voices flat and monotone.

 

“I can’t hear you,” Devlin barked. “Is that _understood_?”

 

“Sir, yes, sir,” they bellowed.

 

“That’s better,” Devlin said, turning to us. “They give you any trouble, come see me.”

 

We nodded, and he disappeared into the front compartment, sliding the door shut behind him.

 

“Wanker,” one of the troopers muttered, causing the other two to snicker. Then he reached up and lifted off his helmet.

 

“Sarge gave orders, Stubbs,” the trooper on his right said.

 

“Frack the sarge,” Stubbs replied. He was around the same age as Devlin, but he looked more good-natured. His chubby face was coated with perspiration. “I’m boiling.”

 

“Doesn’t your armor have a cooling system?” Shell asked. He always wanted to know how things worked and what made them stop working.

 

Stubbs rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “But the heat here is so bad that our power packs crap out after half a day.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the front compartment. “So the sarge decided that nobody uses their cooling systems except during emergencies.” He let out a snort. “If drowning in your own sweat isn’t an emergency, I don't know what is.”

 

“Shut it, Stubbs,” the trooper on his right muttered. “Your helmet might be off, but the comms aren’t.”

 

“Stop being paranoid, Fish,” Stubbs said. “You really think ISB gives a frack about three grunts like us? Take your helmet off before your brain melts.”

 

“Too late for that,” the trooper on Stubbs’ left quipped.

 

“Frack off, Avis,” Fish said, almost absently.

 

The trooper called Avis snorted, then removed his helmet and set it on the seat next to him. He was also young, with a thin face and a scar over his right eyebrow.

 

“Come on, Fish,” he said, leaning his head back against the wall. “If the sarge straps you to the roof, at least you’ll get some air.”  


After a moment’s hesitation, Fish took off his own helmet. He was even younger than the other two, probably no more than seventeen or eighteen. Pity swept over me. They were all so young. They could have been doctors, scientists, engineers, artists. Instead they were stuck in this hellish heat, hauling cargo for who knew how long. And for what? A military stipend and promises of future glory? Some reward.

 

Without warning, the transport started to move. I looked around for a harness, straps, or any other type of safety belt, but there were none. Either the transport didn’t move that fast, or whoever designed it didn’t care whether its occupants survived a crash. I hoped it was the former.

 

“So you guys are going to Tralee?” Stubbs asked after a couple minutes had passed.

 

“Yes,” I said, glad of the chance to engage in conversation. “We’re shipping out from there.”

 

“Where to?” Avis inquired.

 

“The Kathol sector.”

 

“Where’s that?” Fish said, frowning.

 

“Outer Rim, mudcrutch,” Avis said impatiently. “Connor and May got posted there a few months ago.”

 

“Oh, right,” Fish said, his face clearing. “Working the shipyards or some kriff?”

 

“Yeah, security detail. Connor said it’s a fracking mess out there. Skeleton crews, fourteen hour shifts, and a CO that can’t even wipe his own ass.”

 

“At least they’re seeing some action,” Fish said gloomily. “The most we ever get is baggage handlers going on strike.”

 

“You guys contracting with the shipyards?” Avis asked Shell.

 

“No,” Shell answered. “We’re doing some research in the Outback.”

 

“What kind of research?”

 

“Alternative energy,” I said. “Potential substitutes for hypermatter and other crude fuels.”

 

“What’s the point of that?” Stubbs asked. “Hypermatter works better than anything else we’ve come up with.”

 

Oh, boy. Sometimes I forgot just how little most people knew about technology, even technology they used every day.

 

“It’s not a question of whether it works,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact and not patronizing. “It’s a question of efficiency. Hypermatter requires a huge amount of energy, and because of how the Navy’s hyperdrives are designed, a lot of it goes to waste.”

 

“It’s also extremely damaging on an environmental level,” Shell added. “Ships that use hypermatter leave behind toxins and radiation that poisons planetary atmospheres. Normally, it wouldn’t be enough to cause lasting problems, but the Imperial Navy is using more hypermatter than any fleet has before, even during the Clone Wars. The long-term effects could be catastrophic.”

 

“We hope to find an alternative energy source that won’t cause so much pollution and waste,” I continued. “Something that would improve the Navy’s fuel efficiency by a substantial margin. We think there might be something like that in the Kathol Outback. That’s what we’re searching for.”

 

There was a long pause. All three troopers glanced at one another, eyebrows raised, jaws tight. I had the distinct impression that I’d said something they didn’t like.

 

“What is it?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light and curious instead of defensive. “You seem skeptical. Do you think we’re wasting our time?”

 

Avis shot a glance at me, eyes narrowed. “My dad works at a durelium refinery,” he said. “If the Navy stopped using hypermatter, he’d be out of a job. So would thousands of other workers. You think about that before starting your little research project?”

 

I was speechless, but Shell wasn’t. “Of course we did,” he said, his tone frosty. “That’s part of the reason we’re doing it. Have you ever thought about what’s going to happen after the Empire strips your planet bare? Once they’ve gotten what they want, they’ll shut down operations. All they care about is profit and military strength. Not jobs, not people, and certainly not planets.”

 

Avis’ face darkened. “Before the Empire, my family had nothing,” he said tightly. “We were dirt poor, living on government assistance. Then the Navy came in. They set up factories, mines, refineries, shipyards, training academies. Now my dad has a job and so do I. Now my folks don’t have to worry about paying bills or sending my brothers to college. If you take away the refinery, you take away our futures. But I guess you high and mighty academics don’t give a frack about what happens to us, do you? All you care about is getting published in some journal.”

 

“Is that what you think?” Shell inquired. His voice was becoming louder, each word sharper and more enunciated. “I come from a poor family, too. When the Empire set up shop on my world, it seemed like the answer to all our problems. Then they started mining for ore, crystals, chemicals, anything that would help them build ships and weapons. Pretty soon they started drilling into the oceans, the crust, the mantle. They stripped the planet to the core, and when there was nothing left, they left us to fend for ourselves. But because of all the pollution in the atmosphere and soil, we couldn’t grow crops or raise livestock. Two-thirds of our wildlife went extinct within five years. Now my family is even worse off than before. The Empire might have saved your family in the short term, but in the long run, they’re screwed.”

 

“Shut your trap,” Avis said, his voice low and grating.

 

“That’s not a threat, man,” Shell said, spreading his hands. “It’s a fact.”

  


“I said shut your trap,” Avis said, half-rising from his seat. “Or I’ll strap _you_ to the roof, you stuck-up, snot-nosed little pinhead.”

 

“Okay,” I said hastily, grabbing Shell’s arm as he started to get up. “We don't have to get into a debate. We’re just here to do a job, and so are you. Let’s leave it at that.”

 

“Cool it, Aves,” Stubbs said sharply. “He’s not worth it.”

 

Slowly Avis sat back down again, still glaring at us. Then he put his helmet back on and settled back against the seat, clearly determined to ignore us for the remainder of the journey. Stubbs and Fish likewise looked away.

 

After a few moments, Shell glanced at me. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. I knew exactly what he was thinking, because I was thinking it myself. _What the universe have we gotten ourselves into?_


	10. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn meets the research team and is stunned to see a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait! Had some mild writers block/burnout, plus life getting in the way (moving, holidays, work stress, the usual) but I'm back! And so is Thrawn, being adorably awkward and overthinking things as usual. I hope you enjoy!

The comlink was on my desk, resting fifteen centimeters away from my left hand. Such a small thing, yet so large in my mind. It had been easy to forget about it during the morning’s activities, but now I was sitting at my computer terminal reviewing Lieutenant Grey’s report, and its presence was becoming difficult to ignore. Nearly four days had passed since Tessa and I had parted ways. Was that an adequate amount of time to wait before making contact? Neesha seemed to think so, but what was normal for her might not be normal for humans. I had considered asking Vanto’s opinion on the subject, but doing so would require disclosing more information— more than I felt comfortable sharing with anyone else at the moment. Besides, given his track record, he would probably tell Dr. Kahn, and the last thing I needed was my medical officer counseling me on human courtship rituals. No. I would have to solve this particular dilemma on my own.

 

I glanced at the chrono. Ten minutes to eight, and my next meeting wasn’t until 0830. Plenty of time for a quick conversation— all I had to do was pick up the comlink, key it on, and enter the number. Such a simple action, one I’d done countless times, yet my hand seemed incapable of moving. Why was this so difficult? Perhaps because there was no logical reason to call. The  _ Chimaera _ was now in orbit above Esseles, twelve hours away from Coruscant, and would begin its journey to Kathol immediately after retrieving the research team. What was the point of contacting her if I didn’t know when I would return to the Core? On the other hand, if I didn’t reach out soon, I would lose any chance of taking this further.

 

Taking a deep breath, I picked up the comlink, keyed it on, and entered Tessa’s number. I sat back and waited, listening to the low, repeating buzz that meant it was transmitting. 

 

Once, twice, three times. And then, halfway through the fourth buzz, there was a click and a familiar voice floated through the speaker.

 

“Hello?”

 

My breath caught in my chest. It was really her.

 

“Hello?” Tessa repeated, sounding puzzled. “Someone there?”

 

“Yes,” I said, bringing the comlink closer to my mouth. “This is Thrawn.”

 

“Thrawn,” she repeated.  _ There is a blank quality to her voice, as if she has not fully registered the meaning of my words. Background noise suggests that she is in a crowded place— rushing traffic, blaring horns, chattering crowd. A spaceport, most likely. _

 

“Yes,” I said. “From the museum.” 

 

“Oh!”  _ Her tone becomes warmer and rises slightly in pitch.  _ “Wow, I… I’m surprised you called. I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

 

“Not at all,” I said. “You are a difficult person to forget.”

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

“It was intended as one.”

 

“Good.”  _ It is difficult to tell, but I am fairly certain she is smiling.  _ “To be honest, I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

 

“Tess, what are you doing?”  _ A male voice cuts in, loud and impatient. _ “We have to go.”

 

“Just a minute,” Tessa said, her voice suddenly tense, and I heard a muffled thump. She was probably covering the mouthpiece with her hand.  _ I listen to the indistinct jumble of voices, trying to discern what they are saying, but catch only a few words— now, ship, leaving, no, wait. I detect a quiet tension in their tones, a familiar irritation usually found only in close relationships, and an unpleasant thought crosses my mind. What if the voice belongs to her lover— or worse, her husband? _

 

A few moments later, Tessa came back on the line. “Sorry about that,” she said. “My friend’s starting to get anxious because our ship is leaving soon.”

 

_ Friend.  _ I breathed an inward sigh of relief. “That is perfectly all right,” I said. “Perhaps we should resume our conversation later, when you are not pressed for time.”

 

“I think that might be best,” she said. “How about if I call you back in a few hours? I should have plenty of time then.”

 

“That would be most agreeable,” I said, and to my surprise, Tessa laughed. “Did I say something amusing?”

 

“Not really,” she said. “You just have a funny way of putting things. Most people would probably say something like, ‘That sounds great,’ or ‘Works for me.’”

 

“Would you prefer it if I said that instead?”

 

“No.” She laughed again. “Then you wouldn’t be you.”

 

“I see.” I paused. “Well, then. I look forward to your call, Tessa.”

 

“So do I, Thrawn.”  _ Her tone still holds amusement.  _ “Talk to you later.” She keyed off.

 

I set my comlink back on the desk, then simply sat in my chair for a few minutes, replaying the conversation in my head, sifting through layers of possible meaning. It was difficult to read people’s emotions without any visual cues, which was why I avoided comm conversations whenever possible. She certainly  _ sounded  _ pleased, but I didn’t know her well enough to be sure. If only I could have seen her face.

 

I glanced over at Blip, who was snoozing on his perch. “She is going to call me back later,” I informed him. The ysalamir flicked one eye open and looked at me with mild interest. “What will we talk about, I wonder?”

  
  


***

 

Senior Lieutenant Grey’s face was smudged, his trousers were covered with engine grease, and his red hair was standing up on end, making him look like a lit match, but as usual, the engineer was far too focused on his work to notice. He’d spent most of yesterday retrofitting the lab for geosciences with Lieutenant Balik, but this morning he’d started on a new project— the shuttle the research team would be taking into the Kathol Outback.

 

“The Mu-2 is perfect for this kind of mission,” he explained as we walked towards the maintenance bay. “It’s a good sturdy ship with a highly advanced sensor suite, and it’s built specifically for long-distance hyperspace travel. Normally these guys carry a Class Two hyperdrive, but I managed to snag one of the newer models Sienar’s been developing, which has a Class One. That’ll cut the team’s travel time in half.”

 

“Excellent,” I said as we reached the edge of the bay. I gazed down at the shuttle, evaluating its shape and design. Standard Imperial grey, thirty meters long, bulky and blunt-nosed, but a few small details— shaded patterns in the hull plating, smooth contours on the rear thrusters— gave it some unique flair.

 

“Do you know how many crew will be aboard, sir?” Grey asked.

 

“Not yet,” I said. “Once I meet the research team, I will assess their needs more thoroughly. At minimum, we will have a pilot, a medic, and a squad of Marines on security detail.”

 

“There should be plenty of room, then,” Grey said. “Two private cabins on the main level and four doubles on the lower level. But if we need an extra cabin or two, I can add one. That’s the beauty of this thing—  it’s highly modular, meaning we can take pieces out or move them around depending on the specific needs. Extra storage compartments, escape pods, specialized scanners.”

 

“I assume it has standard defense systems,” I said.

 

“Pretty standard.” Grey pointed at the starboard cannon, which was nearest to us. “Deflector shields and fire-linked laser cannons. You think we should upgrade?”

 

“I do,” I replied. “Lieutenant Balik informs me that the Outback holds many dangers, including ion storms and spatial anomalies, as well as possible encounters with pirates. Work with her to ensure the shuttle has every necessary shield and defense system installed.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Grey said.  _ His facial heat increases slightly, as does his heart rate. He is eager to work with Balik again, though I doubt his interest is entirely professional in nature.  _ “I’ll contact her as soon as she gets back.”

 

“Very good, Lieutenant. I will see you in the dining room at 1200 sharp to greet our guests. Until then, carry on.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

As I left the maintenance bay, my comm began to buzz. I unhooked it from my belt and glanced at the display. Lieutenant Balik’s frequency. I keyed on the comm, feeling a flicker of annoyance. What was wrong now?

 

“Yes, Lieutenant?” I answered.

 

“They have a dog,” Balik said without preamble.  _ Her voice holds both tension and irritation. _

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“A dog,” Balik repeated. “The scientists brought a huge, hairy, dirty, smelly dog with them.”

 

I frowned. “Is it a service animal of some kind?”

 

“No, sir. It’s just their pet.” She huffed impatiently. “I explained to them that we don’t allow pets on a military vessel, but they absolutely refuse to get on board unless they can bring it with them.”

 

“I see,” I said. This was interesting. IST had made no mention of a dog in any reports. “Is Commander Vanto with you?”

 

Balik huffed again. “Yes, sir.”

 

“I would like to speak with him.”

 

A few seconds later, Vanto came on the line. “Admiral,” he said.  _ His voice holds amusement.  _ “I assume Balik filled you in?”

 

“She did.”

 

“You should have seen her reaction when they walked into the base,” Vanto said, and I heard him suppress a chuckle. “I thought her head was going to explode.”

 

“She seems quite against the idea of bringing this animal on board,” I said. “What is your assessment of the situation?”

 

“My assessment is that the dog’s well-trained, extremely friendly, and the scientists are prepared to take full responsibility for him,” Vanto said. “They even brought all his food and bedding so we don’t have to worry about supplies. Honestly  sir, I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.”

 

I was silent a few moments, weighing my options. If the dog really was as large as Lieutenant Balik claimed, having such a creature aboard could be distracting and potentially dangerous. On the other, if it was as well-behaved as Vanto described, it might not be worth making a fuss over.

 

“To my knowledge, there is no protocol prohibiting civilians from bringing pets aboard a naval vessel,” I said at last. “However, I would like to see this animal for myself before I make any decisions. Bring it aboard, but inform the scientists that this does not necessarily mean it will be staying. Captain Faro and I will make the final decision during the welcome luncheon.”

 

“Understood, sir,” Vanto said. “Would you mind repeating that to Lieutenant Balik? Because I don’t think she’ll believe it coming from me.”

 

“Very well,” I said, feeling suddenly tired. “Put her on the line.”

  
  


***

 

I spend the rest of the morning doing a variety of tasks, none of which were interesting enough to take my mind off Tessa and her impending call. At 1100 I went back up to my quarters to check my personal comlink, but there were no transmissions. A few hours, she’d said. What was a “few” in her mind? Two? Three? More? Perhaps she had simply forgotten. Or perhaps she had no intention of calling me back at all. I sighed. I would never fully understand the complexities of human behavior, especially of the romantic variety. I put the comm back in its drawer and went down to see how Neesha was faring.

 

Not well, as it turned out. When guests came aboard the  _ Chimaera _ , the chef always sent them a short questionnaire about their dietary preferences and restrictions in order to help her plan the menu. This usually worked quite well, but apparently our latest visitors’ answers had proven less than satisfactory.

 

“I’m at my wit’s end, Admiral!” Neesha bellowed, picking up a datapad from the counter and waving it about. “How am I supposed to cook for these people? What kind of person says ‘I like fish’ and just leaves it at that? What kind of fish do they mean? Freshwater, saltwater? How do they want it prepared? Broiled, baked, fried, raw? I can’t work with so little information! And the other one said they’ll eat anything.” She snorted in disgust. “ _ Anything.  _ Can you imagine?”

 

“Calm yourself,” I said. “Whatever you cook will be splendid, as always.”

 

“It’s just so frustrating,” she grumbled, slapping the datapad back on the counter and picking up a large wooden spoon. “You’d think that  _ scientists  _ would be a bit more precise in their language. Anyway, I’ve done my best. Esseles has a lovely supply of grains and vegetables that grow in volcanic soil, so I’m making that the focus of the meal. If they don’t like it, too bad for them.”

 

“I am sure it will be delicious,” I said, glancing at my chrono. “During lunch, I will request that they update their forms with additional information.”

 

“Please do.” Neesha hopped up on a stool and peered into a pot on the stove. “Lunch will be served at 1230, but I’m going to put out appetizers before that. Humans like to snack while they socialize, I’ve noticed.”

 

“They do indeed,” I said. “Thank you, Neesha.”

 

“Just make sure they re-submit those forms,” she said, pointing the spoon at me. “No more nonsense about ‘eating anything.’ I want specifics!”

 

“Understood.” I stepped out of the galley and headed for the bridge.

 

When I arrived, it was to find Captain Faro and Commander Brax having a heated argument near the crew pits. Concern swept over me. Normally the captain and the security chief got along splendidly. What could possibly be causing such a conflict?

 

“No exceptions,” Brax barked as I approached.  _ His facial muscles contort as he gestures toward the datapad in Faro’s hands. _ “That’s the rule and they’ll follow it. End of story.”

 

“Have you listened to a word I’ve said?” Faro snapped.  _ She jabs a finger at the security chief, her body stance holding both tension and defiance.  _ “There  _ is  _ no official rule, Brax.”

 

“Admiral,” Brax said, catching sight of me. “Glad you’re here. Listen to this. Those blasted scientists want us to de-program the security features on their cabin doors.”

 

I raised my eyebrows. “De-program? As in remove?”

 

“Apparently they want some sort of ‘open-door’ policy where they can just walk in and out of each other’s rooms whenever they like.” Brax snorted. “No code cylinders, no locking mechanisms, no identity scans, nothing. Which means that  _ anyone  _ could walk into their quarters at  _ any  _ time. It’s an enormous breach of security and I won’t stand for it.”

 

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Faro said. “But we can’t just make an exception to a rule that doesn’t exist. There’s nothing in the handbook that says guest rooms  _ have  _ to include security programming.”

 

“Make something up, then,” Brax growled. “I know these civvie types, Admiral. One exception and they think they own the place.”

 

“Did they say  _ why _ they don’t want the measures in place?” I asked Faro.

 

“Not exactly, sir,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I got the impression it has something to do with that dog of theirs.”

 

“And that’s another thing,” Brax cut in. “Have you seen the  _ size  _ of that animal, Admiral? He could rip your arm off, easy as you please. It’s an accident waiting to happen.”

 

“He’s a dog, Commander, not a krayt dragon,” Faro said. “Don’t worry. If he comes near you, I’ll stun him. How’s that?”

 

“Very funny,” Brax growled, and a few of the techs in the crew pit below snickered.

 

“Thank you for your assessment, Commander,” I said. “Captain Faro and I will take your opinions into consideration before making our decision. Dismissed.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Brax muttered, and strode off to his station.

 

Faro let out an exasperated sigh, looking just as tired as I felt. “These people better make a damned good first impression,” she said. “I haven’t even met them yet and I’ve already got a headache.”

 

***

 

At precisely 1200, Faro and I entered the dining room. Only two people were there— Vanto and a stocky man with brown skin and a curly black beard, dressed rather shabbily in a faded jacket and worn trousers. He was holding the leash of an enormous, spotted grey dog which was sitting quietly beside him. Brax and Balik hadn’t been exaggerating about the animal’s size. It probably weighed eighty kilos or more. I watched it carefully, looking for any outward signs of aggression, but except for an occasional twitch of its tail, the dog was perfectly still and silent. Well-trained, indeed.

 

Vanto glanced to his right, and upon seeing us, stepped back a pace. “Admiral, Captain,” he said. “This is Dr. Neal Shelton, one of the scientists from IST.”

 

“From Elantris,” Dr. Shelton corrected. “IST just writes the checks.”  _ His voice is deep with a slight drawl and sounds vaguely familiar, perhaps because of its similarity to Vanto’s Wild Space accent. His body stance is calm, relaxed even, but his dark eyes are full of lively interest as he looks at me. He is curious, perhaps, why an alien would choose to serve in the Navy. And why the Navy would choose to allow it. _

 

“This is Admiral Thrawn, commander of the  _ Chimaera _ ,” Vanto said, gesturing to me. “And Captain Karyn Faro, his second-in-command.”

 

Dr. Shelton gave each of us a bone-crushing handshake. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “You can call me doctor if you want, or Shell if you prefer. No one calls me Neal except my mother and people who want to piss me off.”  _ His lips quirk upward in a half-smile and I catch a whiff of cigarra smoke. _

 

“A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Shelton,” I said, refusing to flinch at his iron grip. “Welcome aboard. I assume your colleague will be joining us shortly?”

 

“Yeah, she’s just getting cleaned up,” Shelton said. “She had a pretty rough trip.”

 

“And where’s Lieutenant Balik?” Faro asked.

 

“With Dr. Alyn,” Vanto answered. “Making sure she doesn’t get lost, I think.”

 

“And she would, believe me,” Shelton said, grinning. “She’s got a terrible sense of direction.”

 

“I see,” I said, glancing down at the dog. “In the meantime, perhaps we should discuss your… other colleague.”

 

“You mean Max.” The dog, hearing its name, looked up at Shelton with an adoring expression, long pink tongue flopping out of its mouth. “Yeah, he’s surprised a lot of people today.”

 

“Vanto tells us he’s trained,” Faro said, narrowing her eyes. “How well-trained is he, exactly?”

 

“Well, he won’t poop on the poop deck, if that’s what you mean,” Shelton said.

 

“This ship does not have a poop deck,” I said, frowning.

 

Vanto pressed his lips tightly together, trying not to laugh. “He’s joking, sir,” he said. “Poop deck’s an old-fashioned term. Wild Space folks use it sometimes to refer to the stern of a ship.”

 

“Ah,” I said. “So you are also from Wild Space, Dr. Shelton. I wondered as much when I heard your accent.”

 

“Yep,” Shelton said. “So you can imagine how happy I was to meet Eli here.” He nodded at Vanto. “Lysatra isn’t too far from Pion. Never thought I’d meet another Wild Space kid so far from home.”

 

“Never thought I’d meet anyone who thought being from Wild Space was actually cool,” Vanto said.

 

“Of course it’s cool,” Shelton said, grinning. “You think any Core world folks know how to rope a razor-beard?”

 

“I think we’ve gone a bit off topic,” Faro said, irritation creeping into her voice. “We were talking about your dog.”

 

“Right,” Shelton said.  _ The muscles in his shoulders tense and his hand tightens around the dog’s leash, a protective gesture.  _ “As I understand it, you two have the final word on whether or not he can stay. So I’ll tell you the same thing I tell everyone. I’ve taken Max on every expedition I’ve been on since he was a pup. He’s been with me for six years. He’s traveled on starships, freighters, boats, speeders, shuttles. We’ve been to mountains, deserts, jungles, swamps, forests, caves, you name it. He’s used to all types of situations and people, and he’s never hurt anyone in his entire life. If I didn’t think he could handle this, I wouldn’t have brought him. Give him a chance and I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

 

“Where will he sleep?” I asked.

 

“Either in my cabin or in Dr. Alyn’s cabin. That’s why we need the doors to stay unlocked. If for whatever reason I can’t be there to let Max out, or feed him, or just keep him company for a while, she will. And when Dr. Bennett gets here, he’ll do the same. That’s how we’ve handled it on other expeditions and it’s always worked very well.”

 

“I see,” Faro said. “And where will he…” She paused and cleared her throat. “Do his business?”

 

“Well, without going into too much detail, suffice it to say I have a portable potty station,” Shelton replied. “He won’t be making any messes where he’s not supposed to.”

 

“What about food?”

 

“I brought a three-month supply with me. I’ll buy more along the way.”

 

“Dogs need exercise,” I said. “Where will he run? I cannot permit him to roam about the ship untethered.”

 

“Do you have a gym?” Shelton asked.

 

“Yes, but it consists mainly of holo simulators.”

 

“That’s fine. He’ll run with me wherever I go.”

 

I looked down at the dog. He was still sitting quietly at Shelton’s feet, head tilted slightly, gazing up at me with large, intelligent brown eyes, as though he, too, was trying to convince me he was no trouble. 

 

“He was well behaved on the tour?” I asked Vanto.

 

My aide nodded. “Yes, sir. Perfect gentleman.”

 

I looked at Faro. She gave a noncommittal shrug.

 

“Very well,” I said after a moment. “We will give it a trial period of a week. If by the end of that time, he has not adjusted, other arrangements will need to be made. And while he is here, you are solely responsible for his needs, Dr. Shelton. My crew does not have time to deal with dogs in addition to their other duties.”

 

“You got it,” Shelton said.  _ The tension in his jaw slackens, his expression holding relief.  _ “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”  _ His eyes flick past me, over my shoulder, and he suddenly smiles. It is a broad, genuine smile, unlike the one he has been using with us. Beside him, the dog suddenly stands and its body starts to wriggle back and forth, indicating excitement. _

 

“There you are,” Shelton said, stepping past us and walking towards the doorway. “I was starting to think you’d fallen in.”

 

“Very funny,” a familiar voice answered.

 

_ I turn around, and everything around me abruptly fades away, dissolving into a muted haze of noise and color. My thoughts scatter, disjointed, flickering in and out like a damaged holorecording. For what seems like an eternity inside of a single moment, my heart stops beating. _

 

_ Tessa. Tessa is here, only a few meters away, her red hair and bright clothes standing out vividly among the dull grey and green uniforms. She is here. On my ship. How? How is it possible? My brain reels, trying to find a pattern, a connection, some logical explanation, but it finds none. _

 

_ I simply stand there, staring at her, completely at a loss for what to do or say. And yet, even as my mind struggles to comprehend this startling revelation, a familiar feeling surges up inside of me. It is the feeling I have when an unexpected advantage presents itself in combat― more time, new information, stronger weapons, greater numbers. A warm glow of satisfaction, bordering on contentment, spreads through my chest, consuming my heart, setting fire to my soul, and with it comes a string of words, repeating over and over like a heartbeat, like a rhythmic chant— good. This is good. This is very, very good. _


	11. Protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now aboard the Chimaera, Tessa must decide how to handle a rather delicate situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it’s been so long since the last installment. Holidays, moving, job stress, the usual adulting crap. But it’s finally done! Annnnd I’ve got the bulk of Chapter 12 written already so hopefully it won’t be such a long time before the next update. I hope y’all enjoy and that it was worth the wait!
> 
> P.S. I didn’t have the energy to come up with fake names for all the cuisine, so just roll with it (no pun intended!)

As a child, I used to spend many hours climbing the trees behind our house, pretending I was an explorer on a jungle world like Borleias or Kashyyyk. One day, after a heavy rainfall, the branches of my favorite tree were more slippery than usual, and I lost my footing. Luckily I was only about a meter off the ground, but I landed squarely on my chest, and the resulting impact knocked the wind out of me. I lay on my stomach for what seemed like forever, struggling for air, my lungs on fire, every breath like a burn. 

 

When I saw Thrawn standing at the far end of the dining room, tall and stern and imposing in his dark green uniform, it was as if I’d fallen out of that tree all over again. My chest constricted, squeezing every bit of air out of my lungs. My vision blurred, my knees went weak, and for a moment I thought I might actually faint. The dashing, suave, sophisticated man I’d met at the museum, the man I’d been flirting with mere hours ago over comlink, was an Imperial. And not just any Imperial— an Admiral in the Navy, for frack’s sake. I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach, accompanied by an undercurrent of anger. It wasn’t fair. Why was I  _ always _ attracted to men who were so utterly wrong for me?

 

“What are you waiting for?” Lieutenant Balik asked, pausing mid-step and looking back at me with an impatient expression.

 

“Sorry,” I murmured, and began walking forward, my legs carrying me as if on autopilot.

 

Thrawn was watching me, but I saw no flicker of recognition in his eyes, no indication that he had ever seen me before. His mouth was a thin, neutral line and he was standing perfectly still, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him. Was he surprised? Pleased? Annoyed? It was impossible to tell. One thing was certain, though. He was definitely  _ not  _ a Pantoran. Those glasses he’d been wearing at the museum were gone, revealing a pair of eyes unlike any I’d ever seen— brilliant, glowing red, with only the faintest traces of pupils. What kind of alien  _ was  _ he, exactly?

 

Shell met me halfway across the room, a broad smile on his face. “Good news,” he muttered. “I just talked with the guy in charge, and he says Max can stay as long as—” He broke off, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” I said faintly. Max butted his head against my hip, asking for pets, and I reached down to scratch his ears. “I’m just tired.”

 

“Well, look alive,” Shell said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You’re about to meet an Admiral. Oh, come on,” he said, apparently mistaking my petrified expression for one of distaste. “He’s not that bad. A little stuffy, but I think you’ll like him.”

 

“I’m sure I will.” I took a deep breath, my heart pounding hard against my ribs.  _ You can do this, Tessa. It’ll be awkward, maybe even a little painful, but then we’ll laugh about it and move on. No big deal. _

 

Two other Imperial officers were standing next to Thrawn— a pretty dark-haired woman who looked to be in her early forties, and Eli Vanto, the small, skinny kid who’d come with us on the tour. He grinned at me as I approached, but I could only manage a strained smile in return.

 

“Admiral,” Shell said, stopping right in front of Thrawn and nudging me forward. “I’d like you to meet my friend and colleague, Dr. Tessa Alyn. Professor of planetary geology at Elantris and pretty much the brains behind this whole operation.”

 

I forced myself to look up. Thrawn was standing just as before, gazing down at me with those red eyes, not a trace of emotion on his face. Then he inclined his head slightly.

 

“It is an honor to meet you, Dr. Alyn,” he said, his voice just as smooth and velvety as I remembered. Hearing it sent a little flutter through my chest. “I am Admiral Thrawn, commander of the  _ Chimaera _ .” He held out his hand.

 

Automatically I reached for it, confusion sweeping over me. Why was he pretending not to know me? Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? Why? There was no reason to be… was there? I opened my mouth, fully intending to demand an explanation for his behavior, but then Thrawn grasped my hand, and suddenly all I could focus on was his smooth palm pressing against mine and his long blue fingers wrapping around my wrist. His skin was soft and dry, almost chalky in texture, and far warmer than I expected. It was also trembling slightly.  _ He’s nervous _ , I realized. _ So nervous that his hands are shaking.  _ My annoyance faded. So he wasn’t a complete robot. He was probably freaking out just as much as I was, only he was doing a far better job of hiding it. And clearly, he wanted to me to play along.  _ Why doesn’t he want anyone to know? Maybe he’s afraid of what might happen if his crew finds out. Why  _ is  _ he serving in the Empire, anyway? Why would an alien willingly work for such a xenophobic, narrow-minded organization? It doesn’t make any sense. _

 

“It’s an honor to meet you as well,” I said, amazed at how calm my voice sounded. “Admiral.”

 

Thrawn’s expression didn’t change, but I felt the muscles in his hand relax slightly. Obviously I’d made the right call. He maintained our handshake perhaps a beat longer than was necessary, then let go and turned to the woman next to him.

 

“May I introduce Captain Karyn Faro, my second-in-command,” he said.

 

“Welcome aboard, doctor,” Faro said, stepping forward and shaking my hand. She smiled politely, but there was a slight crease between her eyebrows as she took in my rumpled clothes and frizzy hair.

 

“Thank you,” I said, forcing myself to smile back. So what if she didn’t like what I was wearing? I was here to work, not play dress-up. “We’re excited to be here.”

 

“I trust the tour went smoothly?” Thrawn asked Lieutenant Balik.

 

The science officer’s mouth tightened as she looked down at Max. “Yes, sir,” she answered. “For the most part.”

 

“I have spoken with Dr. Shelton regarding the handling of this animal,” the Admiral said, as if he’d read her mind. “We have agreed on a trial period of a week. If he behaves appropriately for that amount of time, he will be allowed to remain on board for the remainder of the mission.”

 

Balik’s mouth thinned even further. “I see, sir.”

 

“You disagree,” Thrawn said, his voice even.

 

“I do, sir.”

 

“On what grounds?” Captain Faro asked, her eyes narrowing.  _ She doesn’t like her,  _ I realized.  _ And I’m beginning to see why. _

 

“Disruption to routine, ma’am,” Balik said. “And potential endangerment of my test subjects.”

 

“What test subjects?” Shell asked.

 

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” Eli said, rolling his eyes. “The dog won’t eat your mice.”

 

“Mice?” Shell laughed. “Is that what you’re worried about? Don’t be. Tessa had a pet rat for a couple years that used to ride around on Max’s back like he was a bantha.”

 

“Even so,” Balik said, “I’d prefer that you don’t bring the dog to the lab. It will put the animals under stress, which affects the accuracy of my experiments.”

 

“Wouldn’t stress improve the accuracy?” Eli inquired. “Since you’re testing how the serum performs under battle conditions?”

 

Balik glared at him. “I can’t even begin to explain how many ways that reasoning is flawed,  _ sir _ ,” she said, adding a hint of sarcasm to the last word. “And I seem to recall that discussing military research in the presence of civilians is a severe breach of protocol.”

 

“That is enough, Lieutenant,” Thrawn cut in. His expression was calm, but there was an edge to his voice. “I will not have you or Commander Vanto bickering in front of our guests. Save your disagreements for the briefing room.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Balik said quickly. “Sorry, sir.”

 

“Sorry, sir,” Eli echoed, looking a bit shamefaced. “Won’t happen again.”

 

“I certainly hope not.” Thrawn turned back to us and gestured to a small table against the wall. “Doctors, please help yourself to refreshments. Our main meal will be served at half-past twelve. Captain, may I speak with you a moment?”

 

“Certainly, sir,” Faro said.

 

Thrawn inclined his head again. “Please excuse us.” He and Faro left the room, talking in voices too low for me to make out.

 

I stood motionless for a few seconds, still trying to wrap my head around the situation. This could  _ not  _ be a coincidence. There were too many variables at play for our encounter at the museum to be mere chance. Thrawn must have already known who I was when we first met. Probably conducting some type of reconnaissance, although I couldn’t imagine what he could have possibly gleaned from our conversation. He’d asked nothing about my research or career— just art, culture, and a bit about my family. Was this some part of IST’s vetting process? Send in an expert to study applicants ahead of time, to learn their background, their personal history, their vulnerabilities? Or had Thrawn sought me out on his own? Maybe he wanted to meet me in person before agreeing to bring my team on board. Evaluate how well I’d fit in on his ship, with his crew, his own personality. Either way, he’d done an excellent job. I hadn’t suspected a thing. The only question now was whether or not I wanted to continue this little charade.

 

I felt a hand on my arm. “What the hell, Tess?” Shell said in a low voice, steering me over to the table. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing,” I mumbled. “It’s just been a long day.”

 

“Krayt spit,” Shell said, handing me a plate. Beside him, Max sniffed curiously at a platter of exotic fruit, then sneezed. “You could cut the tension in here with a plasma torch. Which means one of two things— either you and that man spent some time naked together, or you got pretty kriffing close.”

 

“Shut up,” I whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “It was nothing. We met a few nights ago, at a museum on Coruscant. We walked around and talked for a while, then went our separate ways. That’s it.”

 

“And you were planning on telling me this when?”

 

“I don’t know. Never?”

 

“Why the hell not?”

 

“It was just a one-time thing,” I said, taking a few random items and plopping them on my plate. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”

 

“Oh, really?” Shell raised his eyebrows. “So that surprise comm call you just  _ had  _ to take this morning was... what, your receptionist?”

 

“Would you  _ please  _ shut up?” I implored. “I’m trying to make a good impression with these people.”

 

“Everything okay over here?” a voice said.

 

I whirled around. Eli was standing next to us, a curious expression on his face. I wondered how much he’d heard.

 

“Yes,” I said, my voice going a bit higher than I intended. “Everything’s fine. Thanks for asking.”

 

“Okay.” Eli tilted his head slightly, a gesture that reminded me far too much of Thrawn. “I just wanted to let you know that some of the senior staff are here. I can introduce you to them if you’d like.”

 

“That would be lovely,” I said, glad of the distraction.

 

Being a teacher, I was usually pretty good at remembering names and faces, but even after Eli had introduced us to all the senior staff and we’d spent several minutes conversing with all of them, I couldn’t recall much about anyone. My thoughts were skittering about, scrabbling frantically like rats on a sinking ship. What was I going to do? Maybe I should just pull Thrawn aside and ask him what the hell was going on. But how was I going to do that without attracting attention? I could call him later, I supposed. I had his comm number. A private conversation would give us the chance to clear the air, figure out how to handle this. Then again, maybe I should wait for him to make the first move. It was his ship, after all, his life, his routine. He should be the one to decide what to do.

 

A calm, cool voice suddenly cut through the chatter. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?”

 

My head snapped round and I felt another flutter in my chest. Thrawn had returned. He was standing in the center of the room, accompanied by a tiny alien wearing a stained white apron. It was reptilian in appearance, with purple skin and a large crested head, and looking up at the Admiral with an enormous smile, tiny hands clasped together in what I could only assume was anticipation.

 

“If you’re not sleeping with him, can I?” Shell muttered in my ear. I resisted the urge to give him a sharp kick and simply moved away from him, my ears growing hot.

 

“Thank you,” Thrawn said after silence had descended. “Before we begin, our chef would like to say a few words.”

 

“Thank you, Admiral,” the little alien shouted, making me jump. “Greetings to you all! My name is Neesha and I am the head chef for all  _ Chimaera _ senior staff. I would like to personally welcome our guests— Dr. Alyn, Dr. Shelton, and their furry friend, who are visiting from very far away!”

 

She beamed and began clapping her small hands together. Evidently her enthusiasm was contagious, because after a few moments nearly every Imperial in the room started applauding. 

 

I dropped my gaze to the floor, my face burning. I hated being put on the spot in front of strangers— the sudden social pressure nearly always resulted in me saying something trite or idiotic. My father’s words echoed in my head.  _ You are neither delicate nor diplomatic. _

 

Thankfully, Shell’s quick wit saved me from having to think of a response. “Boy, you guys are easy,” he said dryly. “Usually I have to do a card trick or two before getting a standing ovation.”

 

A few people chuckled, and Neesha let out a full-bellied cackle. “Welcome aboard, doctors and dog!” she cried. “I hope that you enjoy the meal. Good eating to you!”

 

She bowed deeply and withdrew, which set off another round of applause. Then everyone began moving towards the long, rectangular dining table, which had been laid with a white linen cloth and silver place settings. I hovered towards the back of the group, wondering where Shell and I were supposed to sit. There weren’t any holocards or seating charts, yet everyone else seemed to know exactly where to go.

 

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around. It was Eli.

 

“You’re sitting next to Admiral Thrawn, ma’am,” he said, pointing to the head of the table.

 

“What?” I blurted. “Why?”

 

“Imperial protocol,” he explained. “The guest of honor always sits at the commander’s right hand.”

 

These people and their protocol. I should probably learn some of it, just so I wouldn’t keep getting surprised by things like this.

 

“Shell’s a guest, too,” I said. “Is there any reason why he can’t sit by the Admiral?”

 

Eli blinked. “I guess he could,” he said. “I just figured it was more appropriate for you to be in the place of honor, since you’re the expedition leader. But if you don’t want to—”

 

“Of course she wants to,” Shell cut in. “She’s just being modest.” He nudged my elbow, smirking slightly. “Come on, Tess. Don’t be rude.”

 

I glared at him. Clearly there was no graceful way out of this. Stomach churning, I began walking slowly towards the head of the table, Shell and Max following close behind. How could I possibly carry on a coherent conversation when my mind was such a mess? Or stop Shell from opening his big mouth and giving everything away?

 

Thrawn was standing beside his chair, that same maddeningly calm expression on his face as he watched the three of us approach. When I reached him, he bowed slightly and gestured to the chair on his immediate right.

 

“Dr. Alyn,” he said politely. “Please be seated.”

 

Silently I lowered myself into the chair, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about my scruffy appearance. Lieutenant Balik had only given me five minutes to freshen up before lunch— barely enough time to change my clothes and splash some water on my face. Already I could feel fresh sweat starting to gather underneath my arms, and I hoped fervently that no one else could smell it besides me.

 

Thrawn waited until I settled down in my seat, then took his place at the head of the table, which seemed to be the signal for everyone else to sit. Captain Faro took the chair on Thrawn’s other side, while Shell took the one next to me. Max yawned hugely and settled down on the floor next to Shell’s chair, head resting on his paws, clearly ready for a snooze. The rest of the Imperials all sat down on Faro’s side of the table, leaving a long row of empty seats to Shell’s right. I didn’t bother to ask why they’d chosen such a strangely lopsided seating arrangement— I already knew what the answer would be.  _ Protocol _ . The mysterious set of guidelines which seemed to dictate every Imperial decision and social interaction. I really needed to get a copy of that rulebook.

 

Moments later, food began to arrive, and despite my distracted state I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer variety and presentation. Sauteed greens and speckled mushrooms.  Fragrant bean soup and seeded rolls. Shaved root vegetables tossed with citrus dressing. Everything was cooked to perfection, flavors and textures complementing one another beautifully. As soon as I finished one plate, a serving droid promptly whisked it away and put another in its place. It was like eating at a five-star restaurant on Coruscant.

 

“This is amazing,” I said to no one in particular, after yet another course— pork medallions and toasted rice— had come and gone. “Do you eat like this every day?”

 

“Sadly, no,” Captain Faro said. “Only when we have guests. The rest of the time, it’s just standard military fare.”

 

“You should have guests more often, then,” Shell said with his mouth full.

 

“No kidding,” the officer sitting next to Eli said. He was short and stocky with blond hair. A stormtrooper commander, if I recalled correctly. “Just wait until that senator comes aboard. We’re gonna eat like kings.”

 

“What senator?” I asked curiously.

 

Faro rolled her eyes. “Some junior senator’s coming aboard at Corellia, since High Command thinks we need a political advisor to do our jobs.”

 

“That will do, Captain,” Thrawn said. The edge in his voice had returned, sharper than before. “We have guests.”

 

Faro fell silent, but the lines of tension around her mouth deepened. Whoever this senator was, she wasn’t happy about them coming aboard. I wondered if she felt the same way about us. A troubling thought. I didn’t have much time to dwell on the matter, though, because the serving droids had started bringing out dessert, and the sumptuous chocolate soufflé in front of me quickly drove everything else from my mind.

 

“So what’s our itinerary?” Shell asked, picking the red berries garnishing his soufflé one by one and popping them into his mouth. “We pick up Bennett and the senator, then head straight for Kathol?”

 

“Not precisely,” Thrawn answered. He wasn’t having any dessert, I noticed. Not surprising, really— with a physique like that, he was probably pretty careful about what he ate. “We will also be making stops at Anaxes, Bestine, and Thyferra. If all goes smoothly, we will reach Crimler Naval Base, which is located on the planet of Gandle Ott in the Kathol system, in six days. Once Dr. Bennett is aboard, I will arrange a meeting to discuss the details of the expedition, including how we will coordinate your team’s mission with our own assignment.”

 

“What  _ is  _ your assignment?” Shell inquired. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

 

“Not at all,” Thrawn answered. “The recently appointed governor of Kathol has been experiencing some resistance from local insurgent groups. Being in such a remote location, his resources are somewhat limited. Our mission is to restore political and economic stability to the region.”

 

“How exactly do you plan to do that?” I asked, scraping up the last bit of soufflé and licking it off my spoon.

 

Thrawn glanced at me, and I saw a flicker of something pass over his face. Irritation? Amusement? I wasn’t sure.

 

“That is a rather complex question, doctor,” he said.

 

“All the best questions are,” I answered.

 

“Indeed.” Thrawn tilted his head to the side, as if considering me. “Very well. Let me see if I can explain. Kathol is a largely unregulated part of the galaxy— it manufactures and produces nearly forty percent of the galaxy’s spice trade. Most planets engage in spice production to a certain degree, while criminal organizations control distribution and reap most of the profits. Since Governor Sarne took office six months ago, he has been attempting to identify and capture major players in these criminal organizations. Needless to say, his efforts have been met with extreme resistance from both local and regional drug cartels.”

 

“And you think that by bringing in more muscle, the cartels will back down?”

 

“It is not simply a matter of muscle,” Thrawn replied. “When attempting to resolve such a complex problem, careful observation and analysis usually yield better results than brute force. As a scientist, I’m sure you would agree.”

 

“I probably would,” I said, “if you could show me some evidence to support that theory.”

 

Thrawn arched one blue-black eyebrow and his lips quirked upward, ever so slightly. There was no doubt in my mind this time. He was definitely amused. 

 

“I most certainly could,” he said. “I suspect you would have a great many insights to offer.”

 

A pause as we gazed at each other, and for a brief moment we were back in the museum, wandering among artistic splendor, electricity filling the space between us. Then Shell cleared his throat.

 

“When you guys are finished comparing egos,” he said, “I’d like to know when we could get a closer look at the ship’s hyperdrive and power systems. It would really help inform our research on fuel efficiency.”

 

“Of course,” Thrawn said, his red eyes sliding off me and focusing on Shell. “Senior Lieutenant Grey, when is the soonest you could give Dr. Shelton and Dr. Alyn a tour of engineering?” 

 

“I’ll clear some time tomorrow afternoon, sir,” Grey answered, straightening up in his chair.

 

“Excellent,” Thrawn saidt. “Unfortunately, my presence is required elsewhere for the remainder of today.” Abruptly, he rose to his feet, and inclined his head to us. “A pleasure to meet you both, doctors. Once again, welcome aboard.”

 

Automatically I stood up too, bewildered by the sudden change in tone. It was like he’d suddenly flipped a switch— one moment he was relaxed and sociable, the next he was all business.

 

“Okay,” I said, rather helplessly. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Admiral.”

 

Thrawn gave me a courteous, if somewhat detached smile. “Likewise, doctor,” he said. “I am sure we shall see more of one another in the coming days. If there is anything you require in the meantime, please do not hesitate to ask.”

  
  


***

 

“What was  _ that _ ?” Shell demanded as soon as we’d gotten off the elevator and were walking down the hallway to our quarters.

 

“What?” I asked, startled.

 

Shell put on a high-pitched, girlish voice. “‘I’d be  _ happy  _ to support your theory, Admiral. I’ll give you  _ all  _ my insights if you show me your evidence.’ For a second I thought both of you were going to start rolling around in that soufflé.”

 

“Shut up,” I said, feeling a blush start. “I was just being friendly.”

 

“If that’s your definition of friendly, I can’t wait to see what flirty looks like.” 

 

“Oh, give it a rest.” We reached the door of my cabin and I pressed the button to open it. “I’m going to take a nap now, and if you wake me up in less than two hours, I will be exceptionally annoyed.”

 

Shell held up his hands. “Fine. Myself, I’m going to take another look around. Maybe unpack some equipment, start setting up a workspace. Or just find the nearest rec room and start checking out the merchandise.” He grinned. “So many boys, not enough time.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” I said dryly.

 

“Oh, quit your pouting,” Shell said. “So what if the Admiral blew you off? He’s not your only option. Half the folks in that room were giving you the eye.”

 

“Really?” I asked, curious in spite of myself. “Which ones?”

 

Shell rolled his eyes. “You are so damned oblivious sometimes.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Well, Lieutenant Grey obviously. I could practically hear his hard-on hitting the table. Lieutenant Orbo was definitely checking out your ass. Captain Faro couldn’t take her eyes off your boobs, and neither could Dr. Kahn.”

 

“The medical officer?” I asked, astonished. “I thought she was married.”

 

Shell snorted. “Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can’t look. And she was definitely looking.”

 

“Wow.” I shook my head slowly, processing the new information. “I guess I  _ am _ oblivious.”

 

“Well, you were pretty distracted at the time.” Shell grinned. “Can’t say I blame you. He’s a fine-looking man.”

 

I opened my mouth, intending to respond with either denial or a snappy retort, but I was suddenly too tired. What did I have to gain by hiding how I really felt?

 

“Yes,” I said simply. “He is.”

 

***

 

Despite my exhaustion, I had a hard time falling asleep. Max, sprawled out on the floor next to my bunk, was snoring loudly, which didn’t help. My thoughts kept circling back to Thrawn, to the casual, almost dismissive way he’d said goodbye. Part of me wanted to call him up and chew him out for being so rude, but another part of me— the small, petty, slightly sadistic part of me— wanted to treat him with the same cold detachment. He was probably expecting me to call, if for no other reason than to express my astonishment at the situation. If I didn’t contact him, he’d likely start worrying, second-guessing himself. Then maybe  _ he’d  _ feel some of the same confusion and hurt bewilderment I was experiencing.

 

Oh kriff, what was I doing? Holding a grudge, nursing my bruised ego, devising ways to get even? I was thinking like a bloody politician. I would  _ not  _ be that person. I wouldn’t be my father. There had to be a better way to get answers than petty revenge or mind games. 

 

I rolled over on my other side, trying to get comfortable on the wafer-thin mattress. If nothing else, I wanted to get to know the real Thrawn, not the fantasy version I’d been creating in my head. I needed to learn about him, in a way that wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion. Something discreet. Something that wouldn’t be considered strange for a civilian aboard a military starship to do. And then it hit me.

 

I leaned over the edge of my bunk and dug out the Imperial-issued comlink that Eli given me.  _ If you ever need anything _ , he’d said. Well, I definitely needed his help now. I keyed it on and dialed the frequency.

 

Two buzzes, then a click. “Commander Vanto,” he answered.

 

“Hi Eli,” I said brightly. “Dr. Alyn here.”

 

“Dr. Alyn,” he said, sounding mildly surprised. “How are you? Settling in okay?”

 

“Oh yes, thank you. I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

 

“Sure, anything.”

 

“I’d like to read up on Imperial protocol,” I said. “Learn some of the local customs, if you will. Is there a protocol droid on board I could make use of?”

 

A slight pause. “Sure,” Eli said. “That’s a great idea. I’ll ask Lieutenant Enzler if she has one you can borrow.”

 

***

 

Half an hour later, there was a sharp metallic tap on my cabin door. Max awoke in an instant and scrambled up, tail wagging as he started forward.

 

“Stay,” I ordered, standing up and moving towards the entrance. Max sat back down, but his tail continued to wave back and forth as he watched the door.

 

“Come in,” I said, and the door opened with a faint hiss.

 

Standing in the hallway was a human-sized robot, one of the common 3PO models often found in people’s homes. My family had one for a brief time, until my mother declared that she couldn’t stand one more second of its chatter and sent it back to the manufacturer.

 

This 3PO unit looked as though it had been through the scrapyard a few times. Its body was mostly black, but the paint had worn away in several places, exposing the tarnished silver plating underneath. One of its photoreceptors was standard yellow, the other bright blue, giving the droid a slightly cockeyed expression. Had this been any other Imperial warship, a model this old and beat up probably would have been decommissioned long ago. But this wasn’t just any Navy ship. It was Thrawn’s ship, and even though I knew next to nothing about the Imperial military, I was beginning to suspect that he did things a little differently than most people.

 

“Dr. Alyn, I presume?” the droid asked in a prim female voice.

 

“That’s me.”

 

“Good afternoon,” the droid said, making a stiff, mechanical bow. “I am LC-3PO, human-cyborg relations, but you may call me by my designated nickname, which is Elsee.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Elsee,” I said, taking a step back to let her through the door. “Come on in.”

 

“Thank you.” Elsee started forward, her joints creaking slightly. I glanced at Max. He looked alert but calm, his big head cocked to the side, watching the droid with an inquisitive expression.

 

“I see you have a canine companion,” Elsee observed, pointing at Max with a stubby metal finger. “Very useful animals, canines. Their auditory and olfactory sensors are incredibly acute. I once read an account of a dog that could detect earthquakes before they occurred.”

 

I smiled. “Well, so far Max hasn’t done anything like that. He did kill a snake once, though.”

 

“Oh, my,” Elsee said, drawing her hand back. “Would he hurt a droid, do you think?”

 

“I highly doubt it,” I said. “Please sit.” I gestured to the small chair next to my bunk.

 

Giving Max a wide berth, Elsee lowered herself into the chair, her metal legs sticking out at a rather awkward angle. “So,” she said, focusing her mismatched eyes on me. “How may I assist you, Dr. Alyn?”

 

I sat down on the edge of my bunk and took out my datapad. “I want to know everything you can tell me about Imperial protocol.”

 

Elsee’s head jerked slightly. “That is an enormous amount of information, doctor,” she said. “You may want to narrow your search parameters.”

 

“Okay.” I thought for a minute. “What can you tell me about the command structure of an Imperial naval vessel?”

 

“There are over one hundred and fifty types of Imperial Navy vessels,” the droid replied. “More specification would be helpful.”

 

“How about an Imperial Star Destroyer?”

 

“Ah, very good,” Elsee replied. “An Imperial Star Destroyer is typically commanded by a Navy captain, although a higher-ranking Imperial officer such as a commodore, admiral, or fleet admiral may take over command in specific circumstances.”

 

“I see,” I said. “So do you know when Admiral Thrawn took command of the  _ Chimaera _ ?”

 

“Admiral Thrawn took over command of the ISD  _ Chimaera _ when he was promoted to that rank, which was approximately four standard months ago.”

 

I raised my eyebrows. “So he hasn’t been an Admiral very long, then.”

 

“That is correct,” Elsee said. “His entire Navy career spans approximately eight years.”

 

“Hold on,” I said, startled. “Are you saying you can tell me the entire history of a specific individual’s navy career?”

 

“Of course,” the droid replied.

 

I leaned back against the wall, a grin starting to unfold. “In that case, I’d like you to tell me everything you know about Admiral Thrawn. Start at the very beginning. And don’t leave anything out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looking back, I realized I made some errors regarding canon continuity. In the Thrawn novel, he becomes captain of the Chimaera first, then Commodore, then Admiral. In this fic I have him taking over the ship when he’s already an Admiral, so there’s a slightly different timeline here. For the purposes of this story it probably doesn’t matter much, but I’m trying to get all the details straight so apologies for the inconsistency!


	12. Anaxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to Anaxes War College holds many surprises in store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... remember when I said I had most of Chapter 12 done already? Here’s the thing— I wrote this chapter over a year ago and haven’t touched it since then. Quite a lot has changed in this story plot-wise, and I had to rewrite almost everything so it would make sense with the rest of the story. But I finally did it! And it’s really long, which hopefully makes up for the long wait (at least somewhat.) Hope you enjoy and I look forward to your comments!

_ My boot heels clack against the polished floor like a metronome, steady and measured, quite unlike my mind, which remains shaky and erratic. My initial joy at having her so near has been replaced with nagging anxiety. Is it mere coincidence that caused our paths to cross? Or is something else at work here, something I have yet to understand? The memory of her is still fresh and close, smells and sights and sounds all tangled together, vibrant and new, almost tangible in their complexity. The scent of her perspiration, of the soap she used on her face and neck. The feel of her hand in mine, small but full of strength, hard calluses running along the palm and fingertips. The slow, almost sensual way she ate her food, sucking a spot of chocolate off her thumb, making soft, contented noises in her throat— all of it has started a fierce and frightening ache inside my chest. I feel a strong need for quiet, for solitude and study. A place to reflect, regroup, rebuild the defenses she has weakened. _

 

My office was dark, illuminated only by faint blue light coming from the holos projected on the walls. After locking the door behind me, I sat down at my desk, determined to sort out this mess in a calm, rational manner. I leaned back in my chair and began replaying the entire encounter from start to finish, trying to clear a path through the chaos.

 

The first and most pressing question was, of course, whether our meeting at the museum had been a coincidence. I had many political enemies and rivals on Coruscant, most of whom would love a chance to catch me in a compromising situation, and sending a beautiful woman to spy on me would be a logical tactic for many of them to employ. However, I’d observed enough human behavior to know that some physiological cues simply could not be disguised, no matter how practiced someone might be at lying. The moment we locked eyes across the room, Tessa’s heart rate skyrocketed, as did her facial heat, and the muscles in her arms and shoulders began to tremble. Such things would not have occurred if she’d been expecting to see me. Even if she’d somehow managed to artificially replicate such responses, the timing would have had to be meticulous, and I still would have likely noticed some inconsistency.

 

So not a spy or political operative. Perhaps she really was who she claimed to be, although she seemed far too impulsive, too easily distracted, too flowery in her language and movements to be grounded in something so practical as geology. However, she did possess an intense curiosity, a highly analytical mind, and a confrontational approach to conversation— all characteristics typical of a scientist. I thought about the bold, demanding tone she took when addressing me, the sharp, insightful way she asked questions, the little crease between her eyebrows indicating skepticism. I thought about the coy tilt of her head, the flush in her cheeks, the slight smile on her lips as she challenged me to prove myself.  _ Show me some evidence to support that theory.  _

 

Very well. I would show her how well observation and analysis could inform strategy. 

 

I turned on my computer console. At my request, the head curator of the Tapani Freeworlds Museum had sent me information on all of its pieces, including those not currently on display. I’d been too busy during the past few days to peruse them, but this was now a top priority. I pulled up the data files and began a search for  _ chakana  _ artists, especially those of Reenan origin.

 

_ The images slide across the screen one by one, filling my mind with color and texture and shape. I see many of the same mythical figures Tessa showed me in the tapestries. Shoshuna, goddess of the sea. Epona, goddess of wind and water. Kyami, protector of the land. Lines swirl and spiral, over and over in repeated cycles, creating rhythmic patterns. Summer and winter, salt and earth, wind and waves. Predictability, security, a constant reminder that everything has an end and a beginning. Does she take comfort in such reassurance? Does it help her cope with the turbulence and chaos of life, or represent her need for stability and balance? _

 

_ Most pieces are made from things found in nature— wood, coral, stone, shells— suggesting a deep connection to both land and sea, a desire to live in harmony with one’s surroundings, dedication to simplicity, rejection of material possessions. Is this why she chooses to study the formation of planets? Because she shares the commoners’ same reverence for nature? Or does it symbolize something even deeper, perhaps rejection of her noble upbringing? _

 

Two hours later, I forced myself to put aside the data files, feeling oddly frustrated. Usually I found it easy to identify someone’s beliefs and motivations through studying their art, but Tessa’s were proving elusive. Perhaps later this evening, after I’d had a chance to mull things over, I would bring everything upstairs to my quarters and try to gain further insight. Until then, this particular puzzle would have to remain unsolved.

 

***

 

The  _ Chimaera _ arrived at Anaxes at 0700 the next day. After the morning briefing and a short sparring session, I went down to the main hangar to find Vanto waiting for me by the command shuttle.

 

“Morning, sir,” he said cheerfully.

 

“Good morning, Commander. Are we ready for departure?”

 

“Almost. We’re just waiting on the scientists.”

 

My stomach turned over. “Excuse me?”

 

_ Vanto’s eyes go wide— a feeble attempt at feigning innocence.  _ “The scientists, sir,” he said, his tone light and casual. “Dr. Shelton called me last night and asked if they could come with us to the War College. I told him they were more than welcome to join us.”

 

“I see,” I said, my stomach continuing to churn unpleasantly. “What precisely are they interested in seeing?”

 

“Mainly the science labs,” Vanto said. “They might also want to sit in on a class and talk with some of the instructors. They’re interested to see how Imperial colleges operate.”

 

“Indeed,” I said. “And is there a reason you did not bring this to my attention earlier?”

 

Vanto shrugged, his expression carefully neutral. “You were busy, sir. I didn’t want to bother you.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is there a reason you don’t want them to come with us?”

 

“No,” I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “I would simply have preferred to know in advance, so I could prepare accordingly. We have a schedule to keep, as you are no doubt aware.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Vanto said. “I’ll be sure to inform you next time.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Silence fell for a few moments. Then Vanto cleared his throat. “Do you know her, sir?” he asked.  _ His expression holds curiosity, and perhaps a bit of amusement. _

 

“Who?” I asked evenly. Two could play at this game.

 

“Dr. Alyn.”

 

“Why do you ask?”

 

My aide shrugged. “At lunch yesterday, I got the impression that the you knew each other already.”

 

“You are correct,” I said shortly. “We have met before.”

 

“Where? And when?”

 

“A few days ago, at a museum on Coruscant.”

 

“And you didn’t once think to mention that to me?”

 

I gave him a cold look. “Why? So you can tell Dr. Kahn about it during one of your little chats?”

 

“I—”  _ Vanto’s face turns pale, and the muscles in his throat contract as he swallows.  _ “No, of course not, sir.”

 

I continued gazing at him, anger starting to take hold. First he discussed my social habits with the medical officer without my consent. Then he invited the scientists to come with us on a private errand without informing me. Now he was fishing for more information about Tessa. Did he expect me to tolerate such interference and insubordination simply because he was my friend?

 

“Let me make this perfectly clear, Commander,” I said. “It is none of your business how I conduct myself in private. I don’t care if you are my aide. Some lines must not be crossed, and my personal life is one of them. Do you understand?”

 

_ Vanto casts his eyes to the floor, his facial heat increasing, his body stance holding both shame and embarrassment.  _ “Yes, sir,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Good.” I turned away. “If the scientists are not here within five minutes, we will leave without them. Commander Harriden is a busy man and should not be kept waiting.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

I strode up the ramp and into the shuttle. After confirming our flight path with the pilot, I went into the main cabin and settled down into my seat. Truth be told, I was half-hoping the scientists would not arrive in time. I needed more time to study before seeing her again.

 

My hopes were in vain, however. Less than a minute later, I heard the clanking of multiple footsteps coming up the ramp, and then Tessa entered the cabin, flanked by Dr. Shelton and Vanto, who looked rather subdued.

 

“Doctors,” I said, standing up and inclining my head. “It is a pleasure to see you again.” 

 

“Good morning, Admiral,” Tessa replied.  _ She gazes up at me, her expression holding both tension and annoyance. _ “I’m sorry we’re late. I didn’t realize we were hitching a ride with you.”

 

_ She throws a glare over her shoulder at Dr. Shelton. He says nothing, but the corners of his mouth quiver with amusement. I suddenly understand. He and my aide arranged this ahead of time, without her knowledge. No doubt a crude attempt at matchmaking. I hope she does not suspect me of involvement. _

 

“That is perfectly all right,” I said, gesturing to the seats across from mine. “Please make yourselves comfortable.”

 

“Thank you.” Tessa crossed the floor and sat down in the seat across from me, arms folded. She was wearing another wrinkled blouse today, along with lightweight shorts that came up to her mid-thighs, revealing a pair of legs as round and strong and sturdy as marble columns, covered in the same brown freckles as her nose and cheeks. There was a scrape on her right knee, presumably where she’d cut herself shaving, and a tattoo encircling her left ankle, a braided band in shades of blue and black. It took only a moment for me to recognize it— the Tapani symbol for peace.

 

“Is this your personal shuttle, Admiral?” Tessa asked.  _ Her voice is low and even, her tone formal, almost stiff. _

 

“It is,” I said, sitting down and fastening my seat belt snugly across my hips. “A  _ Lambda _ -class model, designed by Kuat Drive Yards.”

 

_ She nods, but I can tell she is not familiar with the name, or even all that interested. She is merely making polite conversation, maintaining the illusion I established yesterday. I feel a pang of remorse. I should have behaved differently, treated her with more than simple courtesy. Instead, I drew a line between us— a line that I may not be able to erase. _

 

“We are cleared for departure, Admiral,” the pilot said over the comm.

 

I pressed the button on my armrest. “Copy, Lieutenant. Proceed.”

 

A few moments later, the shuttle rose up off the landing pad and glided out the hangar bay doors. Tessa leaned forward to look out the viewport.

 

“So you guys are picking up some recruits?” Dr. Shelton said after a pause.

 

“Yes,” I said, shifting my attention to him. “Once we arrive, Commander Vanto and I will meet with the base commander and discuss the candidates he has chosen for us.”

 

“How long will that take?”

 

“Two hours, most likely. Three at the most.”

 

“Not much time.” He glanced at Tessa. “We’ll have to be speedy.”

 

Tessa didn’t respond. She continued to glare out the viewport at the rapidly approaching planet, her nose nearly touching the transparisteel.

 

In a few minutes we had descended into the atmosphere and were approaching the War College landing field. Like Coruscant, Anaxes was an ecumenopolis, but unlike Coruscant, it had an abundance of green spaces scattered throughout its cityscape. If I had money, I reflected, and didn’t have obligations elsewhere, I wouldn’t mind residing in a place like Anaxes. The stately neighborhoods near the Citadel were quiet and serene, with large trees and a breathtaking view of the skyline. The entire planet was steeped in naval history, going back thousands of years. Many well-known naval families made their homes here, and there was no place in the Core more stable and secure. It was the perfect place to retire or raise a family. I felt a sudden emptiness steal into my chest, and looked away from the viewport.

 

“You been to Anaxes before, Eli?” Shelton asked.

 

“A couple of times,” he said. “I’ve never been outside the college, though.”

 

“Well, maybe if you and the Admiral get done early, you could join us and explore for a while.”

 

“I’m sure they have better things to do, Shell,” Tessa said.

 

“What’s better than hanging out with us?”

 

“Thank you for the offer, Dr. Shelton,” I interjected before Tessa could reply, “but it is unlikely we will have much time for sightseeing.”

 

Shelton shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said, and leaned back in his seat.

 

The shuttle continued its descent. Once we’d touched down, I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood up. “If you will excuse me, I must go down to greet the base commander.”

 

I walked out of the cabin and waited for the pilot to lower the entry ramp. Vanto came up and stood beside me.  _ His shoulders and jaw are tense, his posture rigid, his eyes narrowed and watchful. My earlier reprimand has undercut his confidence, put him on the defensive. Good. His focus is back where it belongs. _

 

The door of the shuttle rolled back, and bright sunlight hit our faces as we walked down the ramp. It was the middle of summer on Anaxes, and despite the early hour, the air was already uncomfortably warm.

 

Base Commander Vik Harriden was standing a few dozen meters away from the landing pad, waiting for us with a squad of four troopers and an ensign. From this distance, he rather looked as if he were made of stone. His dark face was heavily lined and the little hair he had left was iron grey. He stood motionless as we approached, and it was only after we had nearly crossed the landing pad that he stepped forward.

 

“Admiral Thrawn,” he said. His voice was just as I expected― deep and gravelly. “Welcome to Anaxes.”

 

“Thank you, Commander,” I said. “It is good to be back.”

 

“Glad to have you.” He turned to Vanto. “And this must be Lieutenant Commander Vanto. Good to meet you as well.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Vanto said.

 

“Shall we?” He started forward.

 

“One moment, Commander,” I said. “We have two passengers with us today. Civilian scientists.”

 

“Scientists? What kind of scientists?”

 

“The very intelligent and charismatic kind,” I heard Dr. Shelton say.

 

We turned to see him walking towards us, Tessa close behind. When they reached our group, Shelton didn’t wait for introductions to be made.

 

“Neal Shelton,” he said, extending his hand towards Harriden. “And this is my colleague, Tessa Alyn. We’re professors of geology at Elantris University.”

 

The commander looked a little caught off guard by his informality, but he recovered quickly. He shook Shelton’s hand, then Tessa’s. 

 

“Base Commander Harriden, Anaxes War College,” he said. “Pleasure to have you here.”

 

“Thank you,” Tessa said with a pleasant smile.  _ I see a flicker of attraction in the commander’s eyes, and feel a strange and sudden urge to step between them. _

 

“Are you going to tour the college while you’re here, Dr. Alyn?” Harriden asked.

 

“Yes,” she answered. “The science labs specifically. And we’d like to visit one of your classes if that’s possible.”

 

“I think that can be arranged.” Harriden turned to one of his aides.  “Ensign Zeller, once we’re past security, take these two to Admiral Hya’s office.” He looked back at the scientists. “Hya is the head of our science program here at the college. He’ll be happy to show you around and let you sit in on any classes you’d like.”

 

“That’s very kind,” Tessa said. “Thank you.”

 

The commander looked at me. “Admiral? Shall we?”

 

“Yes, Commander.” We started walking across the landing field, Harriden taking very long strides that were difficult to match.

 

“We have twenty recruits for you,” he said. “Once we get to my office we’ll go over specs, but rest assured, they’re the best we have.”

 

“Excellent.”

 

We reached the entry gate, and the security guards saluted as we walked through the metal scanner. The rest of the group followed, but when Tessa, who was last in line, attempted to walk through the scanner, it buzzed angrily. She took a step backwards, looking confused.

 

“Are you wearing anything metal, miss?” the guard asked.

 

She lifted her hand to her head. “I have some pins in my hair. Should I take them out?”

 

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

 

She looked at us, and her expression was one of embarrassment. “This is going to take a minute,” she said. “Sorry.”

 

Shelton sighed and leaned against the wall with his arms folded. “I told you to cut it before we left.”

 

“I’m well aware of that.” She started yanking the pins out one by one. “You could help me, you know.”

 

“Not a chance. I’m going to savor this moment of being proved right.”

 

“Here.” Vanto walked back to her. “Give them to me.”

 

“Thanks.” She placed a small handful of pins into his palm.

 

We stood in awkward silence as she began to disassemble the mass of braids, handing each pin to Vanto as she pulled them out. True to his word, Shelton remained where he was, watching the proceedings with detached amusement. After a few minutes, she removed the last pin and then shook her head vigorously, probably to make sure she hadn’t missed any. Her hair billowed out in a dark red curtain, far longer than I expected— it nearly reached her knees, shining like bright copper in the sunlight.

 

Tessa looked at the security guard, who seemed to be regretting his request. “Shall we try this again?” she asked, a note of irritation in her voice.

 

“Go ahead,” he mumbled.

 

She walked through for the second time, and no alarm sounded. “Again, I’m very sorry,” she said, taking the handful of pins from Vanto and putting them into her pocket.

 

Harriden said nothing, just turned and continued walking. Our boots crunched on the gravel path leading up to the command center.

 

Behind me I heard Vanto say, “Why _ is _ your hair so long? If you don’t mind me asking.”

 

“Tapani noblewomen never cut their hair,” Tessa explained. “It’s sort of a status marker. It symbolizes longevity, prosperity, that sort of thing.”

 

“It’s really pretty,” my aide said, almost shyly.

 

“It’s also a pain in the ass,” Shelton said. “Forty-five minutes in the fresher, washing and brushing and braiding that mess, every single day. How are you going to keep that up once we’re in the Outback?”

 

“I’ll figure it out,” Tessa said. “You just worry about how you’re going to keep Max from chewing up people’s shoes.”

 

We finally reached the entrance to the command center, and Harriden turned to the scientists. “Admiral, Commander― if you’ll follow me. Doctors, enjoy your visit.”

 

“Let us know when you’re done,” Shelton said as they started after Ensign Zeller.

 

“Sure thing,” Vanto answered. “Just watch your comm.”

 

***

 

Harriden was highly efficient. Within an hour and a half, we had been briefed on each of the recruits and decided the best placements for them aboard the  _ Chimaera _ . I was pleased with our progress, and even more pleased when I met the recruits in person. All of them were as their commander said― bright, eager, and highly skilled. On the grounds outside the command center, I gave a short speech welcoming them to my crew, and Harriden gave an even shorter one wishing them good luck in their careers.

 

The recruits were given one hour to report for orientation. I instructed the  _ Chimaera  _ to send a troop transport down to the landing field, and told Vanto to notify the scientists that it was time to depart. He walked a few meters away before doing so, and spent nearly five minutes speaking into his comlink. Just as I began to wonder what was taking so long, he came walking back.

 

“Everything all right?” I asked.

 

“Yes,” he said. “They’re going to meet us on the campus green. I figured that was easier than trying to meet back at the landing field. They may get lost otherwise.”

 

I looked at him carefully.  _ Heart rate and facial heat normal, no facial tics or twitches present. He is not planning any more subterfuge. _ I nodded my agreement, and together we set off.

 

We reached the campus green, a circular lawn with pathways dividing it into six wedges, in less than five minutes. Standing in the center where all the paths met, we scanned the green for the scientists, cadets and instructors flowing by us in a steady stream.

 

After a few moments, I heard a gritting footstep on the pavement, and turned to see Tessa and Shelton standing a few meters behind us. I was rather disappointed to see that she had put up her hair again, but given the bright sun beating down on us, it was understandable.

 

“Doctors,” I said. “How was your visit?”

 

Shelton rolled his eyes. “Fine, except Tessa kept interrupting the instructor.”

 

“I did  _ not  _ interrupt him,” Tessa said. “I raised my hand, very politely, and waited until he called on me.”

 

“And then started criticizing his entire lecture.”

 

“You criticized the instructor?” Vanto asked, looking appalled. “In front of his students?”

 

“I didn’t  _ criticize  _ him,” Tessa said in an exasperated tone. “I simply asked why he didn’t give any credit to Rjovek’s work. Teaching astrophysics without mentioning Rjovek is like teaching history without mentioning the Clone Wars. It’s idiotic.”

 

Shelton grinned at us. “Some things never change,” he said. “She was a smartass in undergrad and she’s a smartass now.”

 

“He didn’t even let the students ask questions,” Tessa went on, ignoring the interruption. “How are they supposed to learn if they can’t ask questions?”

 

“They’re allowed to ask questions,” Vanto said. “Just not while the instructor’s lecturing.”

 

“He was lecturing for an hour and a half,” she countered. “What if you don’t understand something partway through? What if you need him to slow down or repeat what he said earlier?”

 

Vanto looked at me, apparently at a loss. I suppressed a smile and turned to Tessa.

 

“In the Imperial Navy, it is generally expected that cadets will remember their lessons the first time, without need for repetition,” I explained. “On the battlefield, you do not have time to repeat an order or ask for clarification. You must act quickly, or risk putting your crew in unnecessary danger. One mistake can cost many lives.”

 

“Making mistakes is part of learning.”

 

“True, but experiencing the consequences of those mistakes can motivate people to learn more quickly.”

 

“Fear of failure,” Tessa said.  _ The skeptical line between her brows appears and her jaw muscles tighten. _ “That’s your approach to education?”

 

“It is the Empire’s approach,” I answered. “Not mine.”

 

_ The line deepens and her head moves back a fraction, as though she is evaluating me from a different angle. She is confused, and rightly so. I wear the Empire’s uniform, command their legions, follow their orders— why do I not also share their philosophy? I wish there was a way to take her aside, explain everything, start over. Part of me wishes she had never come aboard  The more I see of her, the more I lose sight of my objectives. _

 

“Sir,” Vanto said, his tone suddenly low and urgent. “Admiral Grant’s here.”

 

I followed his gaze and saw a small, haughty-looking man walking up one of the paths towards us. A bitter taste rose in my mouth. I had met Grant once before, and that was more than enough. He despised aliens of all types, as well as droids and humans less affluent than himself.

 

“Well, if it isn’t Admiral Thrawn,” Grant said, stopping right in front of me and making an exaggerated bow. “The pride and joy of the Imperial Navy.”

 

“Admiral Grant,” I said politely. “A pleasure to see you again.”

 

“You’re too kind,” Grant said. “I wish I could say the feeling was mutual.” He glanced at Vanto. “What brings the two of you to Anaxes? Another court-martial?”

 

“No, sir,” Vanto said.  _ His hand curls into a fist and his jaw tightens.  _ “Just picking up some new recruits.”

 

“Ah, I see,” Grant said. “Are you pleased with the selection?”

 

“Yes,” I answered evenly. “They are exemplary cadets and will make fine additions to my crew.”

 

“I’m glad you think so,” Grant replied, a sneer twisting his mouth. “I myself didn’t find them very impressive, but I’m sure they’ll fit in with the rest of the  _ Chimaera _ ’s misfits just fine.”

 

I gazed at him, letting the silence hang awkwardly in the air, deciding on the best way to respond. However, it was Tessa who spoke first.

 

“I can’t help but notice, sir,” she said to Grant, “that symbol on your lapel. An Obu dragon bearing a green banner. Unless I’m very much mistaken, that’s the crest of House Mecetti.”

 

_ Grant’s chest swells slightly. _ “You have a sharp eye, madam,” he said. “I am indeed of the Mecetti bloodline. Admiral Octavian Grant, Commander of the Imperial Star Destroyer  _ Retribution _ . And you are?”

 

_ Tessa draws herself up, back straight, chin high, and her casual demeanor melts away, replaced with an almost regal aura. It is the stance of an aristocrat, a noble, someone who commands respect without uttering a single word. _

 

“Tessalyn Yuri,” she said. “My father is Lord Thaddeus Yuri, House Reena’s representative on the Tapani High Council.”

 

_ The smug smile on Grant’s face flickers.  _ “I didn’t know that Lord Yuri had a daughter,” he said cautiously.

 

“Now you do,” Tessa said, her dark eyes narrowed. “And last I heard, my father and the rest of the council aren’t too happy with the Mecetti lords. Something about bribing military officials for fast track promotions, if I recall correctly.”

 

_ A muscle twitches in Grant’s cheek.  _ “I’m not sure where your father is getting his information, Lady Yuri,” he said, “but it appears to be based on rumor rather than fact.”

 

“That’s the thing about rumors, isn’t it?” Tessa said. “It doesn’t really matter if they’re true or not. The important thing is what people believe. And if they believe that someone from House Mecetti is abusing their position in the Imperial military, well...” She shrugged. “There’s no telling what might happen.”

 

Grant stared at her for a long moment, the muscles in his face contorting. Then he forced a smile. “My apologies, Lady Yuri,” he said. “I meant no disrespect.”

 

“I’m sure you did,” Tessa said shortly. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Admiral Thrawn and I are headed to a rather important meeting, and you’ve already made us late.”

 

“Of course,” Grant said, inclining his head and stepping aside to let us pass. “Please give my regards to your family and House Reena, my lady.”

 

Tessa didn’t answer, just turned to me and gestured to the empty path in front of us. “After you, Admiral,” she said.

 

Wordlessly I began walking down the path, feeling slightly stunned. Tessa was close behind me, her strides rapid but measured.

 

“Where are we going?” I murmured after a few paces.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered back. “Just keep walking until we’re out of his sight.”

 

A few more paces and we’d reached the end of the pathway. I turned left around the corner of a building, then stopped.

 

“That was  _ awesome _ ,” Vanto said, coming up to her. “Did you just make that up?”

 

“Some of it,” Tessa said. Now that we were out of Grant’s view, she had slipped back into her usual stance— shoulders slightly hunched, arms hanging casually from her sides, one hip jutting out.

 

“Let me guess,” Shelton said. “We don’t actually have an important meeting.”

 

“Of course we do,” Tessa replied, pointing at the wrought iron gates up ahead, beyond which lay the red-roofed city of Anaxes. “We’re going to lunch.”

  
  


***

 

It was an entirely different world outside the college― wide brick sidewalks, winding streets, open-air cafes, and small shops. It felt as though we were walking in a town instead of a large, sprawling metropolis.

 

“It’s pretty,” Tessa said. She was right beside me, looking down at the pavement as she walked. “I like this red cobble.”

 

“It is quite aesthetically pleasing,” I answered.

 

“So where are we going?” Shelton said over his shoulder. He and Vanto were walking a few paces ahead of us.

 

“I don’t know,” Tessa said. “I just thought we’d wander about until we found a place that looks good.”

 

“We don’t have time to wander about, Tess. They have to be back in an hour.”

 

“Fine,” she said. “Go ask someone if there’s a good restaurant nearby. Local people always know the best spots.”

 

Shelton stopped and turned around. “As you command, m’lady,” he said, making an exaggerated bow just as Admiral Grant had done.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Tessa said, but she sounded more amused than annoyed. “You know I hate it.”

 

Shelton resumed walking, but backwards, so he was facing us. “‘I’m an important little noblewoman,’” he mocked in a high voice. “‘Out of my way, I’m late for tea with Lord Stuffington of House Barnacle.’”

 

Tessa gave a snort of laughter. “It’s  _ Barnaba _ , you filthy peasant.”

 

Shelton grinned and turned back around. “Come on, Eli. Let’s do a little reconnaissance.”

 

Vanto glanced at me, his expression questioning. “You may accompany him,” I said. He nodded and followed after Shelton, who was already halfway up the block.

 

Tessa and I continued walking side by side, slightly awkward silence filling the space between us. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Her pace was slow, almost ambling, and she took time to glance in each of the shop windows we passed. The sun continued to beat down on us, and I saw sweat gathering on her forehead. A tendril of hair had come loose from her braid, curling across her cheek, and I felt a slight flutter in my stomach as she lifted a hand and tucked it behind her ear. I hadn’t known that the length of women’s hair had a special significance in Tapani culture. I wondered what it be like to run my hands through its silky smoothness, how it might feel between my fingers. The fluttering feeling intensified and I forced myself to look away.

 

“Why did you do it?” I asked.

 

“Do what?” she asked, stopping to rifle through a rack of brightly colored dresses outside a storefront.

 

“Give Admiral Grant the impression that you had leverage with the Tapani High Council.”

 

“Oh.” She continued browsing through the rack. “Because I hate it when people use their noble status as an excuse to be rude. Just because you’re richer or more powerful doesn’t make you better. I thought Grant could use a little reminder that even  _ he  _ isn’t invincible.”

 

“Correct me if I am wrong,” I said, “but I thought you lost your status. How did you know Grant would be unaware of such a thing?”

 

Tessa stopped browsing and glanced at me. “So you’re finally going to acknowledge that we know each other,” she said. “About time. I wondered if you’d suddenly developed amnesia.”

 

“Not amnesia,” I said, amused. “Merely a sense of propriety.”

 

“I see.” She tilted her head slightly. “Well, I didn’t know for sure. But my father rarely tells people about me, so I figured it was pretty safe to mention the family name. Even if Grant already knew who I was, it’s very unlikely he would know that I’m  _ naguna _ .”

 

“What is  _ naguna _ ?”

 

“The Tapani word for outcast,” she said. “It means a noble without status, stripped of all lands and titles. Doomed to walk in poverty and shame for the rest of their days.” She grinned. “At least that’s what my parents told me. I found the reality to be far less grim.”

 

“Hey, Tess!” We both glanced up to see Shelton and Vanto waving to us from up the street.

 

“Looks like they’ve found a restaurant,” Tessa said, and without waiting for me to respond, started walking towards them.

 

Being with her was like being caught in a whirlwind, I thought as I followed her. She moved so fast, changed directions so quickly, that it was hard to predict where she would go next. I was also finding it difficult to read her physiological cues. Her heartbeat seemed fairly steady and her facial heat wasn’t spiking, either. Perhaps the bright sunlight was impeding my vision.

 

After a few lefts and rights, we arrived at a small restaurant tucked between a clothing boutique and a gourmet grocery. A small wooden sign swinging over the door read  _ Lysa’s Seafood House _ . When we entered, a bell tinkled somewhere, and the host hurried over. He was human, somewhat portly, with a shining bald patch and a red face.

 

“Good afternoon, sirs and lady,” he greeted us with a broad smile. “Would you prefer a table inside or outside?”

 

The four of us looked at one another. “I vote inside,” Shelton said. “It’s too damned hot out there.”

 

“Seconded,” Tessa said.

 

I turned to the host. “Inside, thank you.”

 

“Very good.” He picked up a stack of menus. “Follow me, please.”

 

We made our way through the maze of chairs and tables toward the back of the restaurant. A few diners raised their heads as we walked by, and most of them stared rather openly. We must seem a strange group― an alien in an Admiral’s uniform, a young Naval commander, and two slightly sunburnt civilians.

 

“Do you think they’re staring at my boss or your boss?” I heard Vanto say to Shelton in a low voice.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shelton replied. “Tessa’s not my boss.”

 

“Technically I am,” Tessa told him. “So behave.”

 

Our table was large and square with a white cloth over it. I expected Shelton to take the seat next to his colleague, but he sat down across from her instead. Vanto took the chair next to him, leaving me with no choice but to sit next to Tessa. A deliberate move, no doubt. They certainly were persistent. I took great care not to bump her arm as I slid into my seat.

 

Dining in restaurants always fascinated me. You could learn a lot about people from the way they ordered their food. Shelton, for instance, was quick and decisive― it took him less than twenty seconds to order the scalefish and shrimp platter. Vanto took a bit longer, his gregarious nature prompting him to ask the host who owned the restaurant (he did, but it was named after his wife Lysa) and how long they had been in business (over twenty years.) He finally settled on the fried matshi.

 

When the host came around to Tessa, she didn’t even bother to look at her menu. “What do you recommend?” she asked.

 

He smiled. “My personal favorite is the eel, but the shark filet is also very good.”

 

“I’ve never eaten eel before,” she said. “I think I’ll try it.”

 

“Excellent,” he said, and turned to me. “For you, sir?”

 

I had already read the entire menu, and knew I wanted either the snapfish or the shark. The host’s recommendation decided me. “Shark filet,” I said. “Medium rare.”

 

“Very good,” he said, and bowed. “I will get your orders to the kitchen right away.”

 

“A bold choice,” I said to Tessa once he had walked away.

 

She smiled. “I usually ask for a recommendation when I eat somewhere new. I’ve hardly ever regretted it.”

 

“Except for that one time,” Shelton said.

 

“Yes, but we won’t talk about that.”

 

“What happened?” Vanto inquired.

 

“Trust me,” she said. “It’s not a story you want to hear right before eating.”

 

“Suffice it to say it involves vomiting,” Shelton said cheerfully.

 

“Shell, please,” she implored. “Don’t tell the story.”

 

“Oh, come on. He wants to hear it,” Shelton said, nodding at Vanto.

 

“Maybe so,” she said, “but I guarantee that  _ he  _ doesn’t.” She tilted her head in my direction.

 

“Perhaps you could regale us with a story that does  _ not  _ involve vomiting, Dr. Shelton,” I said, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

 

“I could,” he said. “But those aren’t nearly as funny. See? I haven’t even started and you’re already laughing.”

 

“How about instead we talk about where we’re going after this?” Tessa suggested. “I assume the next stop is Kuat?”

 

“Correct,” I said. “We will arrive there tonight to pick up spare parts and some additional ground vehicles. And Dr. Bennett, of course.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Shelton said, rolling his eyes. “Bennett the bonecutter.”

 

“For God’s sake,” Tessa sighed. “He means xenobiologist.”

 

“Isn’t that what I said?”

 

“Unfortunately, Shell doesn’t place much value in that particular field,” she said dryly. “I do, which is why I invited Bennett to come with us. He’s going to document and catalog any new species we find in the Kathol sector.”

 

“The reason I don’t see value in that has nothing to do with Bennett,” Shelton said, setting down his glass. “He’s a brilliant scientist and I respect the hell out of him. It’s just that in the grand scheme of things, people are insignificant little blobs. We account for less than a millisecond on the cosmic calendar. When you come right down to it, all of us are essentially just squishy, bloody sacks of meat and bones. Frankly I don’t understand why anyone wants to spend their career digging around in our guts.”

 

Vanto’s leg gave an involuntary twitch, bumping the table and causing the ice cubes in our glasses to clink softly.

 

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Tessa said, tapping her forefinger against the tabletop for emphasis. “You cannot fully understand a planet’s geologic history without understanding the biological history of the people living on it.”

 

“Please,” Shelton said in a bored tone. “People have no long-term effects on planetary geology. Planets have been around since before we even came into existence, and they’re going to be around long after we’re extinct.”

 

“People have been around for a good five million years,” she countered. “That’s longer than some planets have even existed.”

 

“Of  _ course _ some planets are younger than five million years,” Shelton said impatiently. “But none of them support life― at least not yet. Proving my point that people are an insignificant blip on a planet’s timeline.”

 

“Okay,” Tessa said, straightening up in her chair. “Take the chomong on Velusia. Sea creatures that have existed for millennia. When they die, their bodies fossilize and create huge sediment rings around the planet’s islands. Some of these rings are the circumference of small moons. New ocean currents form around the rings, which shifts the pattern of Velusia’s tides, which changes the planet’s seascape and climate, which affects the tectonic movement of the continents.” She slapped her palm down on the tabletop. “Tell me how _that's_ not biology influencing geology.”

 

Shelton opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly at a loss for words.

 

Vanto laughed. “I think that's the first time I've ever seen Dr. Shelton speechless. Well done.”

 

“He’ll think of a rebuttal soon enough,” Tessa said, but I could tell she was pleased she had won the argument.

 

A few minutes later our food arrived, and my stomach growled loudly as the steaming, crisp shark filet was set down in front of me. I tried a bite and discovered that the outside was coated with a light, spicy sweet glaze that provided just the right amount of contrast to the rich, flaky meat. I chewed slowly, savoring the taste, letting the flavors roll over my tongue, and made a silent vow never to tell Neesha I had come here.

 

I suddenly realized that Tessa wasn’t eating. “Everything all right?” I asked her.

 

“Yes,” she said. “It’s just… he’s looking at me.” She nudged the plate toward me slightly, and I saw the eel’s blank, staring eyeballs goggling up at the ceiling.

 

Vanto snorted, and Shelton almost choked on his food. “Tessa, you’ve outdone yourself,” he said when he could speak. “I don’t think you could ask for a dish with more personality.”

 

Tessa gave the eel an experimental poke with her fork, and I could see her struggling not to laugh. “Let’s see if he tastes better than he looks.” She picked up her knife, carefully sliced off a section of the eel, and placed it in her mouth.

 

“Well?” I asked after a moment, completely forgetting about my own food as I watched her chew thoughtfully.

 

She swallowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything quite like it. But it’s good.”

 

“So you do not regret your choice.”

 

“Not at all.”

 

As we resumed eating, I began experiencing some difficulty because of a simple fact I had forgotten. Tessa was left-handed, and I was right-handed, which meant that our arms kept bumping against one another when we cut into our food. I edged my chair a few millimeters away from hers, but her arm continued to brush mine every so often. Each time this happened, I felt another flutter in my stomach.

 

Eventually the host returned, this time accompanied by his wife, a short and plump Twi’lek. Her skin was a bluish gray and I could see her lekku peeping out from underneath her head covering.

 

“Lysa does not speak much Basic,” the host explained. “But she would like to know how you are enjoying the food.”

 

“Very much,” Tessa said.

 

“Yes, it’s very good,” I told them. Shelton and Vanto both nodded enthusiastically.

 

His wife beamed and spoke rapidly in a language that I did not recognize. “What did she say?” Tessa asked.

 

“She says that you and your husband should come back tonight for dinner,” the host said, smiling. “You should. We are having a band play and there will be dancing.”

 

Tessa blinked. “My husband?”

 

“Yes, isn’t this your husband?” the host asked, gesturing to me. 

 

I nearly spat out a mouthful of water. Vanto and Shelton both looked up from their plates and I saw them start to grin.

 

“No,” Tessa said, shaking her head emphatically.  _ Heat rises in her cheeks and her heart starts beating incredibly fast _ . “No, we’re not married. We’re not together.”  _ She makes a slashing gesture through the air, drawing an invisible barrier between us. _

 

“No,” I echoed, after swallowing my sip of water. “We are not.”

 

The host looked surprised. “My apologies.” He turned to his wife and started speaking in the unfamiliar language, probably explaining her mistake. The woman laughed and said something in reply.

 

“A misunderstanding,” he said, turning back to us. “She says that you look like you belong together.”

 

I resisted the urge to loosen my collar, which suddenly felt very tight around my neck. Tessa let out a nervous laugh.

 

“That’s sweet of you,” she said, “but no, we’re not together.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” the host said. “Our mistake.” He gently took his wife by the arm and started steering her away from the table. She seemed quite unperturbed, and continued talking and smiling as they walked back toward the kitchens.

 

“Hey, Admiral,” Shelton said. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to hold your wife’s hand when you’re out on a date?”

 

“Shell, knock it off,” Tessa snapped.

 

“I suppose I should feel jealous,” he said with a grin. “People usually think  _ I’m  _ your husband.”

 

“I said knock it off.”

 

“Why are you getting mad? You’ve already got one husband, what’s wrong with having another one?”

 

Tessa’s facial heat, if possible, increased even more. “I cannot  _ believe  _ you’re bringing that up,” she said. “That was a cultural misunderstanding and you know it.”

 

“Oh, I think K’assu would strongly disagree,” Shelton said, still grinning.

 

“Who’s K’assu?” Vanto asked.

 

“No one,” Tessa said quickly.

 

“He’s this Uugteen guy she accidentally married on Akiva,” Shelton said.

 

“Accidentally?” Vanto repeated. “How do you  _ accidentally  _ marry someone?”

 

“That’s a good question,” Shelton said, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms comfortably across his chest. “How exactly  _ did  _ that happen, Tess?”

 

Tessa buried her face in her hands. “Shell, please,” she said in a muffled voice. “It’s too embarrassing.”

 

“More embarrassing than the vomiting story?”

 

“All right!” Tessa lifted her head and glared at him. “I’ll tell it. But only if you don’t interrupt.”

 

He held up his hands. “I won’t, I swear.”

 

Tessa hesitated a moment more, then let out her breath in a huff. “Okay,” she said.  _ She brushes a strand of hair back from her forehead and shifts in her chair.  _ “This was about ten years ago, right after Shell and I finished our undergraduate program. We were on Akiva, exploring some of the ancient catacombs, looking for fossils, cataloging new rocks, that sort of thing.

 

“The people who live there are called the Uugteens, and they’re very similar to humans in most respects. The only difference is that their skin is extremely pale, probably because they spend most of their lives in caves. Anyway, they were quite curious about what we were doing— most people are— and after we’d been there for a couple of weeks, they started inviting us to join them for meals, visit their homes, and just generally include us in their daily lives.

 

“We didn’t speak their language and they didn’t speak ours, so we had to use gestures most of the time. We drew a lot of stuff in the dirt with sticks, and there was a lot of pointing, sound effects, making faces, anything to help us communicate. We learned each other’s names, we shared our food and our tools, taught each other some basic words. And they showed us some truly incredible geological formations that we never would have found on our own. It was great.

 

“So I’d gotten to know this one family pretty well. Their son K’assu was about my age, and we started to become friends. Only eventually, we became a bit more than friends.” She paused and cleared her throat. “The night before we left, the tribe threw a big farewell party for us, and K’assu and I were both a little tipsy, and we decided to… you know.” She cleared her throat again. “Be romantic.”

 

“She means sleep together,” Shelton said.

 

“Stop interrupting me or I’m not saying another word,” Tessa snapped.

 

“Sorry, sorry.”

 

“Anyway,” Tessa went on, the heat in her face rising again, “the next morning, he invited me to have breakfast with him and his family, so I did. Everyone was smiling at me, which I thought was a little weird, but okay— they’re just in a particularly jolly mood today. Then K’assu gave me a cup of this bitter black tea, so of course I drank some to be polite. Then he drank the rest, and everyone got very excited. Shell came in and asked the tribe leaders what was going on, and eventually, we figured out what had happened.” She paused and pressed her lips together, holding back a laugh. “Apparently, if you spend the night with an Uugteen man, and the next morning he invites you to his home, makes you a special tea, and you both drink from the same cup,  _ and  _ his parents and grandparents are all there to bear witness, that means you're married.”

 

“Oh, stars,” Vanto said, and to my amazement, he started to giggle. “You married a guy and you didn’t even know? How did you get out of it?”

 

“Technically, I didn’t,” Tessa said. “I tried to explain to him that it doesn’t work that way in my culture, that I didn’t know what I was agreeing to, but he just didn’t get it. Or maybe he didn’t care. Anyway, it’s been ten years and as far as I know, he’s still there, waiting for me to come back.”

 

“You broke that poor guy’s heart,” Shelton said. “Tessa Alyn, geologist, college professor, and corrupter of innocent men across the galaxy.”

 

“Stop,” Tessa groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I feel bad enough as it is.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Shelton said. “Change of subject, then. I’ve thought of a rebuttal to biology versus geology. Want to hear it?”

 

“God, yes.”

 

The two of them launched into an argument involving astrophysics and planetary formation theory. I didn’t understand most of what they were saying, so I did what I usually did when I had nothing to contribute to a conversation. I observed.

 

_ Tessa leans forward over the table, gesturing wildly, nearly knocking over her water glass. The line between her brows deepens, then softens, then deepens again. Her voice rises and falls in pitch. Every time she glances at me, there is a fresh spike in her heart rate and facial heat. She is quite aware of my gaze, but doing her best to ignore it. _

 

_ As I watch her, a gradual realization washes over me like a rising tide, steady and relentless, drowning me in waves of fear and excitement and pleasant anticipation. I want her. I want this beautiful, reckless, bold, unpredictable woman, this woman who is a maze of contradictions and a teller of stories, this woman with a fiery temper and a warrior’s spirit. I want her more than anything else in this universe, and I am going to do everything in my power to win her heart. _


	13. Authenticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions develop as Tessa learns more about Thrawn’s motivations for studying art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It’s been a very long time, and I apologize for that. I have no real excuse, other than that I’ve been very busy (re: distracted) with Star Wars Celebration, beta reading various things, and collaborating on other fics (check out Tales from the Admiral’s Quarters and the Great Eli and Thrawn Prank War if you’re interested.) I hope this chapter is worth the wait, and I will do my best not to make you wait so long for the next one!

“I know you’re mad,” Shell said, “but try to look at this positively, okay?”

 

“I’ll do no such thing,” I snapped, continuing to stride down the hallway. We’d gotten back from lunch about ten minutes ago, and I’d lost no time in getting as far away as possible from Thrawn and the disaster that had been this day. “You  _ humiliated  _ me.”

 

“I did not humiliate you. I helped you.”

 

“By making me look like a complete idiot?”

 

“Listen,” Shell said, grabbing my elbow and pulling me to a stop. He was wearing that infuriatingly patient look, the one he had when his students were struggling to understand something in class. “If you’d known ahead of time that we’d be spending the day with him, you would have acted all prim and proper and not like yourself at all. This way, he got to see the real you.”

 

“I don’t  _ want  _ him to see the real me!” I exclaimed. “The real me is bossy and loud and stubborn and self-absorbed. I smoke too much, I drink too much, I eat too much, I’m impulsive, immature, hotheaded—”

 

“All valid points,” Shell interrupted, “but I don’t think he cares, Tess. You weren’t sitting across from him, so you didn’t see it. But he was definitely giving you the look.”

 

“What look?”

 

“ _ The _ look. The one that says, ‘I think you’re gorgeous and I’d very much like to ravish you right now.’”

 

I let out a high-pitched laugh. “You are so full of kriff.”

 

“Hey, don’t take my word for it. When we were walking back from lunch, Eli told me he’s never seen him look at  _ anyone  _ like that before, and he’s known the guy for almost ten years.”

 

I thought back to Thrawn’s calm, measured voice and steady gaze. “Are you sure?” I asked skeptically.

 

“I’m sure.” Shell grinned. “He must really like bossy women.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” I said, and started walking again.

  
  


***

 

My quarters on the  _ Chimaera  _ weren’t terrible— they were far larger than most ship cabins I’d stayed in— but I still found them unsettling. The dark colors, stark lighting, and absence of windows all made it feel as though I was in a prison cell. My bunk was so narrow that I’d nearly rolled off it several times during the night, and the mattress was so thin that it felt like sleeping on bare boards. There was a tiny sink in the far corner, but if I needed to use the toilet or take a shower I had to visit the communal fresher, which was located about five meters down the hallway. It was like I’d regressed back to my undergraduate days, only without the fun parts.

 

I sat down on the edge of my bunk and began pulling pins out of my hair for the second time today. I still couldn’t believe the guard had made me take it down in front of everyone. I should have refused, but he probably wouldn’t have let me past the checkpoint if I had. It was incredibly embarrassing, and not just because everyone had to wait for me. I’d told Eli that women’s hair was a source of pride and wealth in Tapani culture, which was true, but what I  _ hadn’t  _ told him was that unpinning your hair in front of strangers was considered very improper— especially if those strangers were male.  _ A lady never lets her hair down in mixed company _ , the adage went. An old-fashioned notion, one most other Tapani worlds had long since abandoned, but Reena had always been slow to catch up with the times.

 

I vividly recalled coming into the parlor when I was thirteen or so, hair hanging loose and tangled around my face, and being utterly confused when Mama ushered me out of the room, away from the curious stares of the predominantly male guests. She explained (quite calmly, for her) that from now on, I should keep my hair pinned up when I went out. “You’re a woman now,” she’d said, smiling as though we shared a special secret. “Your hair is one of your most prized possessions. Only your husband will ever get to see it fully down. No other man has the right or the privilege.” Ordinarily I would have scoffed at such an idea, just as I did with other  _ chentana  _ traditions, but I’d recently become interested in boys, and the notion that I could use my hair to attract their attention was intriguing. I’d also noticed that some of my school friends had started to wear their hair up, which made it seem far more like a legitimate rite of passage than some story Mama had invented.

 

I started watching my mother, observing the styles and techniques she used, amazed by how fast she could braid and twist without even looking in the mirror. Eventually I asked if she could show me how, and she was only too happy to oblige. She was probably relieved that I’d finally taken an interest in something other than playing in the dirt. And to my surprise, I actually enjoyed it. When I was younger my friends teased me about my hair color, calling me  _ momoto _ and other childish insults. Now they were envious. Boys liked my red hair and were constantly telling me how pretty it was, which only fueled my desire to make it look as good as possible. Keeping my hair up became an ingrained habit, and nowadays I rarely let it down in front of anyone except close friends, so on those rare occasions when I was forced to— like today— I felt extremely self-conscious. It didn’t help that Thrawn was watching me the entire time, his red eyes glowing brightly even in the strong sunlight. I’d felt oddly exposed, like he was watching me undress.

 

I curled up on my bunk and stared at the ugly grey wall across from me, going back over the past few hours, cringing as I remembered certain details. I should have known something was up the moment Shell started rushing me through breakfast. He never cared about being late and absolutely despised getting up early, so why the sudden urgency? I wouldn’t be surprised if Thrawn and Eli had been in on the joke either. How else would Shell have wrangled a ride on their shuttle? I really was a gullible fool.

 

I rolled over on my back and scowled at the ceiling. It didn’t really matter now, I supposed. My behavior today had been more than enough to dampen any attraction Thrawn might have felt towards me. I’d been grumpy, belligerent, critical of the Empire’s teaching methods, rude to his colleague… actually, that last one I had no regrets about. I hated the condescending way Grant had spoken to Thrawn and Eli, his tone laced with the inherent smugness of someone who’d had everything handed to him since the day he was born. Wiping that smirk off his pinched face had been immensely satisfying.

 

No, I didn’t regret what I’d done to Grant. What I  _ did  _ regret was going out to lunch afterwards. It was an impulse, an attempt to do something kind in the face of Grant’s ugliness, but I hadn’t asked Thrawn if it was okay, hadn’t even bothered to ask what  _ he  _ wanted to do. I’d just decided. And Thrawn just went along with it, even though he said earlier he and Eli wouldn’t have any time for sightseeing. He probably decided that giving in was easier than arguing. How presumptuous and rude I must have seemed to him. And  _ then _ , to make matters even worse, the restaurant owners had mistaken us for a couple, which was about the most embarrassing thing I could imagine. At least until Shell brought up the story about K’assu and made me look like a sex-crazed, culturally insensitive idiot.

 

After I’d lain there for a while, silently seething and devising ways to get back at Shell, the comlink Lieutenant Balik had given me began to buzz. I eyed it suspiciously. I’d only received two calls since I’d arrived, both from Shell pretending to be her. Briefly I considered not answering— I wasn’t in the mood for more jokes. But maybe it was actually someone important this time.

 

I let the comm buzz twice more, then keyed it on. “Hello?”

 

“Dr. Alyn!” a high-pitched voice shouted.

 

I jerked the comm away from my ear, wincing. “Yes? Who’s this?”

 

“Neesha!”

 

“Who?”

 

“The chef, the head chef for the senior officers! I was at the welcome luncheon yesterday. Don’t you remember?”

 

“Oh, of course,” I said, the fog lifting. “What can I do for you, Neesha?”

 

“I was wondering if you’d had a chance to fill out that form for me.”

 

I wracked my brain, trying to remember all the forms I’d had to complete after coming aboard the  _ Chimaera _ — medical, legal, financial. What type of form could the  _ chef  _ possibly want from me?

 

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” I said after a pause. “I filled out all my forms yesterday. Did I miss one?”

 

“No, no,” Neesha said. “You filled it out, but you didn’t provide much detail. I can’t build a profile on just  _ fish _ , you know.”

 

“A profile?” I said, my confusion growing. “What kind of profile?”

 

“A dietary profile, of course!” Neesha exclaimed. “Didn’t the Admiral tell you? Oh, that silly man. He was supposed to have you fill it out again, but obviously he didn’t. I’ll be having words with him later.”

 

I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh at the image of the tiny chef “having words” with Admiral Thrawn.

 

“I’m sorry,” I said after a moment. “I didn’t mean to make your job more difficult.”

 

“Oh, that’s all right!” Neesha shouted. “Actually, I’ve just had a brilliant idea. You should come down to the galley and visit! I’ve just gotten a large shipment of seafood from the marketplace. We can go through everything I have and you can tell me what you like. It will be such fun!”

 

I glanced at the chrono. Not even 1400 yet. It would be hours until we arrived at Kuat. I certainly didn’t want to spend them cooped up in this little cell of a room.

 

“Okay,” I said slowly. “That does sound like fun. What’s a good time for you?”

 

“Now, of course!” Neesha bellowed. “Nothing is more important than food, nothing! I’ll send a mouse droid to fetch you right away.”

  
  


***

 

The kitchen (or galley, as Neesha had called it) was easily ten times the size of my cabin. All the cabinets and countertops were set low down, and there were several footstools placed strategically near the taller shelves, presumably to accommodate Neesha’s small stature. The chef herself was nowhere to be seen, but the door at the far end of the galley was hanging open. She’d probably gone in there to retrieve something.

 

I turned to say goodbye to the mouse droid, but it was already zooming away, faint squeaks echoing down the corridor. Smiling, I walked across the galley and cautiously stepped through the open door.

 

I’d expected dry goods or cold storage, but to my delight, it turned out to be a large, brightly lit hydroponics bay. Rows and rows of leafy greens rose up from hover planters, while vines of peas and beans crawled up a large wooden trellis in the center of the room. Flowers and fruit trees rose up from hover planters and several large water tanks lined the walls, all of them filled with live fish, crustaceans, and seaweed.

 

I walked slowly into the room, touching a few of the plants, feasting my eyes on all the colors— greens, reds, oranges, yellows, purples, blues. Such a welcome change from the dull black and grey of the ship. The air was warm and humid and fresh-smelling, and I felt an unexpected pang of homesickness. Yixa’s garden would be in full bloom soon, and she and Kiro would start making summer salads and eating  _ kaba _ pods right off the vine. I should really send her a holo message soon, along with some images. She wouldn’t believe that I was on a Star Destroyer unless I had visual proof.

 

I heard a splashing noise off to my right. “Hello?” I called. “Neesha? Are you there?”

 

“Dr. Alyn!” the chef shouted. “Come in, come in! I’m right behind the pepper plants!”

 

I ducked under a large fern, went past several beds of bright orange peppers, and finally reached the edge of the room. Neesha was balanced rather precariously on a ladder propped up against one of the tanks, and I watched in fascination as she plunged her arm into the water and scooped out a large, scaly blue lobster. She tossed it into a bucket on the floor, then quickly slid down the ladder and raced up to me, beaming.

 

“I’m so happy you could visit this afternoon,” she cried, grasping my hand in both of hers and shaking it vigorously. Her skin was wet and a little slimy, but not unpleasantly so. “I was just getting some lobsters.” She pointed at the bucket. “Do you like lobster?”

 

“I like all kinds of seafood,” I said. “I’m from an ocean world and that’s mostly what we ate growing up.”

 

“Lovely!” Neesha rubbed her small hands together. “Carry that bucket for me, would you? I need to pick some herbs for tonight.”

 

I picked up the bucket and followed her down one aisle, then another, water sloshing over the rim and splashing my trousers. I didn’t mind. It was nice having something to do.

 

“To tell you the truth, I’m a bit nervous about this senator coming aboard tomorrow night,” Neesha said, stopping in front of a storage compartment and taking out a small basket and garden shears. “A lot of my regular customers on Coruscant were politicians, and they were always  _ very  _ particular about their food.” She began snipping leaves off a large purple shrub, standing up on tiptoe to reach the higher branches.

 

“You had a restaurant on Coruscant?” I asked, surprised.

 

“I did,” Neesha said, puffing up a little. “One of the finest.”

 

“Why did you leave?”

 

“Money, mostly.” Neesha’s face split into a wide grin. “The Admiral offered to double my salary if I came aboard.”

 

“He must have really liked your cooking,” I said, shoving one of the lobsters back down into the bucket.

 

Neesha chuckled. “To be honest, I think he likes the company more.” She leaned towards me, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’d never admit it, but he’s a very lonely man. He always wants to hear stories about my family. Especially the children.”

 

“Really,” I said, trying not to sound overly curious. Elsee hadn’t been able to tell me anything about Thrawn’s origins, only his military record, and that only went back eight years. Did he have a family? He said he’d been married before, but made no mention of children. Probably because I hadn’t asked.

 

“I’m rather curious what you think of him,” Neesha said.

 

“What I think of him?” I repeated. “Well… he seems like a good commander. Very calm, very confident.”

 

“Oh, he’s an excellent commander,” Neesha said. Her beady eyes were focused intently on my face. “I meant what you think of him as a person.”

 

I felt a sudden warmth in my cheeks. “I… I don’t really know,” I said haltingly. “He’s a bit difficult to read.”

 

Neesha laughed. “Nonsense,” she said. “He’s the easiest person in the universe to read. Just watch his eyes.”

 

After gathering a few more herbs, we walked back to the kitchen and set everything down on one of the larger countertops. Then Neesha dragged me over to the refrigeration unit.

 

“Come and see,” she said gleefully, throwing open the door. “I ordered a bit of everything.”

 

She certainly had. Eel, crab, shrimp, lobster, and more varieties of fish than I’d ever seen in my life. It was enough to feed Yixa and her entire family for a month.

 

“I thought tonight could be a test run,” Neesha said, grabbing a hovercart and pushing it into the compartment. “Before the banquet tomorrow.”

 

“There’s going to be a banquet?” I asked, following her. Maybe I’d get to wear a dress on this trip after all.

 

“Of course,” Neesha exclaimed. “She’s a very important guest, Senator Yarrin. Everything has to be perfect.” She grabbed a bundle of kelp and tossed it on the cart. “Thank the stars she likes seafood. It makes menu planning so much easier.” She moved further down the row of shelves. “Let’s try a few dragon fish, and maybe some pintle as well. And some bell oysters! Those will be delicious as an appetizer.”

 

A few minutes later, the cart was sagging under the weight of all the crates and bins Neesha had piled on it. Slowly I pushed it out into the kitchen, wondering how we were going to cook all of this.

 

“You sit there,” Neesha instructed, pointing to a tall, three-legged stool. “I’ll get Slash.”

 

She snapped her fingers, and I watched in surprise as a large, spindly droid unfolded itself from the wall. I counted at least six arms, each with a different culinary attachment— peeler, mincer, paring knife, zester, grater, whisk. The droid glided over to Neesha’s side and let out a series of rapid, disapproving beeps.

 

“Yes, I  _ know  _ your programming doesn’t include shucking oysters,” Neesha said crossly. “Just do your best, all right?” She took a shucking knife out of a nearby drawer and handed it to the droid. Slash beeped an affirmative and took the knife from her, then grabbed an oyster and began sawing away at its shell.

 

“No, no, no,” Neesha cried, snatching the knife back. “It’s not a block of cheese, you imbecile! You have to pry it open, don’t slice it.” She picked up another oyster, pierced the hinged base of its shell with the knife, and popped it open in one smooth motion. “See? Like that. Try again.”

 

Slash grumbled something unintelligible and resumed working. Neesha rolled her eyes. “I keep telling the Admiral I need a real kitchen droid,” she said. “This one used to work on a ship assembly line. He wasn’t designed to do complex things like this.”

 

“Maybe I can help,” I said.

 

“Do you know how to reprogram droids?”

 

“No, but I know how to shuck oysters.”

 

“Really?” Neesha eyed me skeptically. “Who taught you?”

 

An image of Xani, his large arms encircling me, guiding my hands along the curve of a moss-covered shell, flashed through my mind. “A friend,” I said. “He was a fisherman.”

 

“Hmpf.” Neesha frowned. “Well, I suppose I should take all the help I can get.” She opened the drawer and took out a second shucking knife. “Have at it.”

 

I grinned and hopped off the stool. I’d felt so useless these past couple of days, sitting around waiting for the expedition to start. Now I could actually do something helpful, however small it might be.

 

Neesha watched closely as I pried open the first oyster, apparently waiting to see whether I did, in fact, know what I was doing. After a moment, she let out a cackle of laughter.

 

“You’re full of surprises, young lady,” she said. “I suppose you know how to scale fish as well?”

 

“Scale fish, peel shrimp, shuck clams. You name it.”

 

“Amazing,” Neesha said, shaking her head. “I’ll keep you here all day if you’re not careful.”

 

I smiled and picked up another oyster. “I’ll stay here as long as you can stand me.”

 

Working with Neesha was an absolute delight. The little chef was a fireball of energy, rushing from one end of the galley to the next, chattering nonstop about all manner of things. She asked a lot of questions about my homeworld, particularly regarding Reenan cuisine, and seemed fascinated by everything I had to say.

 

“I know who you remind me of,” I said after we’d started scaling the pintle fish.

 

“Who’s that?”

 

“My grandmother. Nan.”

 

The chef laughed. “You’re not the first person on this ship to say that. All these poor young people get so homesick, especially the new ones. They need a grandmother to look after them. Tell me about your nan.”

 

“She was unusual,” I said, setting a scaled fish on the board beside the sink and picking up a fresh one by the tail. “She always did things her way. On holidays, she used to send the servants home early and make all of us do the cooking and cleaning. Then after dinner, she’d spend the whole night smoking and drinking and telling dirty jokes. It drove my grandfather crazy. He’d say, ‘Enid, you are without a doubt the worst  _ chentana _ ever to marry into this family.’ And she’d just look at him and go, ‘Alensio, if you didn’t want any strong-willed women in your family, you wouldn’t have married a Bunami. Now get me another glass of wine.’”

 

Neesha threw back her head and cackled. “I like her already! She sounds like a splendid woman.”

 

“She was.” I finished scaling the next fish and paused to wipe the sweat off my forehead. Tiny rainbow scales were plastered all over my fingers, making my hands sparkle. “Most noble families try to pretend they’ve always been noble, that there’s not a drop of common blood in their veins. But the truth is, we’re  _ all  _ descended from the Tapani colonists. Back then, nobody cared what class you were, only what you could do. Our ancestors terraformed planets, built cities, worked the land and sea, created hyperlanes and trade routes, all without any outside help. The Bunami are one of the few families who don’t try to hide that part of themselves. Nan was always proud of her common blood. She said it made us stronger.”

 

“You miss her,” Neesha said.

 

I nodded slowly. “We used to sing a song whenever we had work to do, like this. It made the time go by faster.”

 

“A song!” Neesha exclaimed. “Oh, I do love songs. Would you teach it to me?”

 

“It’s a little off-color,” I warned.

 

“I have nine children and twenty-five grandchildren,” Neesha said with a snort. “Nothing shocks me anymore.”

 

I grinned. “Okay. I’ll use the Basic version, so you can understand the words.” I took a deep breath and began.

 

_ Oh, there was a great party on a nobleman’s ship _

_ All the lords and ladies were there! _

_ But all was not well on that nobleman’s ship _

_ Listen close and I’ll tell you why! _

 

_ The first mate was a drunken sot _

_ He pissed his pants and soiled his cot _

_ And when the crew dared to complain _

_ He went and docked their pay again! _

 

_ So what did they do? Why, I’ll tell you! _

_ They put a rope around his neck _

_ And dragged him up onto the deck _

_ And they heaved him over the side! _

 

Neesha exploded into laughter. “Oh, that is delightfully wicked! Keep going, keep going.”

 

I took another breath and started the next verse.

 

_ The ship’s cook made a lovely stew _

_ She served it up to all the crew _

_ And when they asked what it contained _

_ She told them it was monkey brains! _

 

_ So what did they do? Why, I’ll tell you! _

_ They put a rope around her neck _

_ And dragged her up onto the deck _

_ And they heaved her over the side! _

 

As I finished the chorus, I suddenly became aware that someone was standing in the galley doorway. A very tall someone, with glowing red eyes. The fish I’d been scaling slipped out of my hand and hit the floor with a smack.

 

Oh, no. Not now. Why did I always have to be dressed like a slob when he came around? Just  _ once _ I wanted him to see me in a nice dress instead of scruffy traveling clothes or an apron covered in fish guts.

 

“Admiral!” Neesha shouted. “How lovely to see you!” She hopped off the stool she’d been standing on and raced over, a filet of raw fish still in one hand. “Dr. Alyn’s been helping me prepare for tonight’s meal. Did you know she knows how to scale fish?”

 

Thrawn took a few steps forward, hands clasped behind his back, frowning at the pile of fish bones and oyster shells.

 

“Dr. Alyn is a guest,” he said. “She should not be doing kitchen work.”

 

“I offered to help,” I said quickly, not wanting to get Neesha into trouble. “I like this sort of thing.”

 

“Do you?” His eyes lingered on my bloodstained apron and scale-covered hands. “It seems rather… messy.”

 

“I like messy,” I said, a bit defensively. “You should try it sometime. You might enjoy getting your hands dirty.”

 

Thrawn arched an eyebrow, and I felt myself blushing as I realized how that must have sounded. To cover my embarrassment, I squatted down to retrieve the fish I’d dropped.

 

“What can I do for you, Admiral?” Neesha cried. “Do you need more scraps for Blip?”

 

“I do, as a matter of fact,” he answered.

 

“Who’s Blip?” I asked, standing up and rinsing the fish off under the tap.

 

“He’s the Admiral’s pet lizard,” Neesha said.

 

I let out a snort of laughter. “You have a pet lizard?”

 

“Yes,” Thrawn said. “Although I fail to see why that is amusing.”

 

“It’s not, really,” I said. “I just can’t quite picture you having a pet.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because pets are messy.”

 

His lips quirked upward in something like a smile. “I assure you,” he said, “Blip is quite fastidious.”

 

“Can I see him?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

 

Thrawn tilted his head. “I suppose you could,” he said after a pause. “Although I must warn you that he is quite shy. You must not make any sudden moves or loud noises.”

 

“I promise,” I said, silently cursing myself for being so impulsive. “I’ll be very quiet.”

  
  


***

 

Five minutes later we were walking down another unfamiliar corridor. Imperial officers were standing guard outside several of its doors. All of them saluted as Thrawn went by, and he gave each of them a slight nod in return. I could tell it was an automatic gesture, something he did all the time without a second thought. It reminded me of the way commoners often bowed their heads when nobles passed them on the street. A sign of respect, of acknowledgement. And a subtle reminder of differences in status and power.

 

Silence filled the space between us as we walked along— not a comfortable silence, but a heavy, awkward one. I’d taken off the apron and done my best to wash off, but a few scales still clung stubbornly to my hands and arms. I probably still smelled like fish, too. This was, without a doubt, one of the stupidest decisions I’d ever made.

 

I stole a sideways glance at Thrawn. He was walking at his usual steady pace, eyes focused straight ahead, the small container of food scraps Neesha had given him held loosely in his hand. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, what he might be feeling. Was he pleased that I’d taken an interest in his pet? Annoyed that I’d interrupted his day? Nervous about being alone with me?  _ He’s easy to read _ , Neesha had said.  _ Just watch his eyes.  _ But what was I watching for, exactly?

 

“Where are we going?” I asked into the silence.

 

“My office,” he answered.

 

“Blip lives in your office?”

 

“Not precisely,” he said. “He lives in my quarters, which are located directly above my office. Once we are inside, I will bring him down for a visit.”

 

“Okay,” I said, relieved that he wasn’t going to ask me to come up there with him. I didn’t like to think about all the bad decisions I would make if we were alone in his private quarters.

 

A few moments later we reached a set of double doors, flanked by a stormtrooper on one side and a small workstation on the other. An officer was sitting at the station’s computer terminal, but he stood up as we approached.

 

“Admiral, sir,” he said, saluting.

 

“Senior Lieutenant,” Thrawn said, walking past him and taking a code cylinder out of his breast pocket. He inserted the cylinder into the lock and the doors slid open with a faint hiss.

 

“After you,” he said, stepping back to let me through.

 

I walked inside and immediately noticed three things. The first was that everything was bathed in a strange bluish light, giving the white patterns on my blouse a neon glow. Second, it was much colder in here than out in the corridor. And third… 

 

Art.

 

It was everywhere. There were pieces of art adorning the walls, hanging from the ceiling, resting on tables, or being projected from holographs. Sculptures, ceramics, paintings, tapestries, carvings— it was like I’d stepped into a museum.

 

The doors slid shut with another hiss. I looked over my shoulder to see Thrawn standing a few meters away, hands behind his back, watching me.

 

“So you don’t just study art,” I said. “You collect it, too.”

 

“I do indeed.” He came forward, stopping next to my left shoulder— not too close, but near enough to send a nervous twinge through my stomach. “Please forgive the lighting,” he said. “I realize it is probably darker than you are accustomed to. I find it helpful to view artwork on different light spectrums, especially when trying to perceive certain colors.”

 

“Are there some colors you can’t see very well in regular lighting?” I asked.

 

He nodded. “I perceive more of the infrared spectrum than humans can, but less of the ultraviolet.”

 

“Interesting,” I said. “So if you can see infrared, that must mean you can see heat signatures.”

 

“It does.”

 

“That must be useful.”

 

“In certain situations, yes.”

 

“Can you see mine right now?” I asked, suddenly curious. What did I look like to him?

 

Thrawn tilted his head, gazing down at me with those glowing eyes. “I can,” he said. “It is very bright.” He paused. “And very beautiful.”

 

Heat rushed into my face and my skin began to tingle as I gazed back at him. He was giving me an opening, I realized. Inviting me to take this further, if I wanted to. And for one single, shining moment I wanted nothing more than to put my arms around his neck and kiss him. But then a small voice in the back of my brain spoke up.  _ Too soon,  _ it said.  _ You barely know this man. Think. For once in your life, think before you act. _

 

“Thank you,” I said, giving him a slightly awkward smile. Then I looked away, focusing on the art scattered throughout the room. “Would you show me some of these pieces? Tell me what are, what they’re about? I’m very curious to know.”

 

A slight pause. “Of course,” Thrawn said, his voice just as even and calm as before. If he was disappointed or offended, I couldn’t tell. “Is there a particular one that caught your interest?”

 

I kept looking, and after a moment spotted a small, shining metal statue sitting on a pedestal in the far corner of the room. Something about the way its curves caught the light attracted me.

 

“That statue,” I said, pointing.

 

“Ah yes,” he said. “That is a depiction of a Bothawui goddess. Nearly five hundred years old. Would you like to take a closer look?”

 

Together we walked over to the statue. Somehow, it seemed smaller up close. I circled the pedestal, trying to identify the metal. 

 

“It’s made of chromatone, isn’t it?” I said after a minute.

 

“Close. Chromacarbon.”

 

“That makes more sense. Bothawui is one of the only places in the galaxy with natural chromacarbon deposits.”

 

“I imagine you have an affinity for art pieces made from geological materials,” he said.

 

“I love any form of art that uses the natural elements,” I said. “Metal, wood, stone, water. There’s a kind of... raw beauty to them. Synthetic materials just don’t have the same authenticity.” What was I doing, talking about art like an esteemed critic instead of the ignorant novice I really was? He was going to see right through me.

 

“In that case, you may be interested in this.” Thrawn moved to another corner of the room and gestured to an intricately carved wooden chest. “This is a Ranari trunk. An heirloom that is handed down through generations. Each family who inherits it carves a new design or symbol into its surface.”

 

“That is beautiful.” I resisted the urge to run my fingers over the curved scrollwork, and instead looked up at him. “Why do you collect art? Something tells me it’s more than just a hobby.”

 

He smiled slightly. “You are correct. Art tells us much about people, especially their history and philosophy. When I look at a work of art, I do not look just at its shape, color, texture, and composition. I also see stories, core beliefs, political and cultural convictions. I see the future and the past. Most importantly, I see patterns and connections.”

 

He talked softly, almost inaudibly, even though there was no one nearby but myself. I found myself leaning closer in, the better to hear him. 

 

“By studying art, I gain insight into the species or culture that created it,” Thrawn continued. “Through this knowledge, I can develop a hypothesis about their psychology and how they may behave in a given situation. This is very helpful when it comes to strategy and tactics.”

 

“You study art because it helps you predict people?” I asked.

 

“In essence, yes. Although I do appreciate it on an intellectual level as well.”

 

“I see.” I looked back down at the chest. “So what did this tell you about the Ranari?”

 

“A great deal,” he said. “It tells me that lineage is of great importance, and family loyalty is paramount to their sense of self. Wood is a natural element, and as you so eloquently put it, has a certain rawness. This tells me they reject more advanced forms of technology, preferring the simpler aspects of life. The intricacy of the carvings indicates they greatly value attention to detail, and the fact that each family adds to it shows they also place much importance on collaboration, rather than individuality.”

 

“And what did you do with that information?”

 

“I determined that the Ranari will not make a decision without first consulting each and every member of their respective families,” Thrawn answered. “And they will only make a decision if the vote is unanimous. I also predicted that because of their disinterest in advanced technology, they would continue using the weapons that have been passed down through generations, rather than adapt to their current enemy’s arsenal.

 

“I was able to use this knowledge to my advantage when we established an Imperial presence on the Ranari homeworld. A few of the local insurgent groups resisted our efforts, but because I had studied their art, I knew that the leaders would have difficulty making quick decisions during battle because of their inherent need for consensus. That, combined with their use of inferior weapons, meant we were able to overwhelm their forces and quash their attempt to start an uprising quite efficiently.”

 

As I listened, I became increasingly unsettled. I’d always viewed art as open to interpretation, something to be enjoyed, appreciated, even analyzed, but certainly not used as a means to wage war on the people who’d made it. And then an even more unsettling thought came into my head. Why exactly had Thrawn been at the Tapani art exhibit on Coruscant?

 

“You seem disturbed,” Thrawn said.

 

“I am,” I answered, stepping away from the trunk. I wasn’t sure why, exactly— all I knew was that I wanted to put some distance between us. Thrawn, however, seemed to have no intention of letting me walk away. He followed me, tracing my steps as I began wandering aimlessly around the room, looking at the other pieces but not really seeing them.

 

“Have I said something to upset you?” he asked after a long pause.

 

“Yes,” I said shortly.

 

“I am sorry. That was not my intention.”

 

I stopped and turned to face him. “What  _ was  _ your intention, then? What were you hoping to accomplish by telling me all of that? Did you expect me to be impressed?”

 

Thrawn’s eyebrows raised a fraction. “I did not expect anything of you,” he said.  “I was merely trying to answer your questions.”

 

“Really? Because it sounded like bragging to me.”

 

“Bragging? About what?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, unable to keep my sarcasm out of my voice. “How you outsmarted these ignorant, primitive people and conquered their world by using their culture and art against them? You might think that’s admirable, but I sure as hell don’t.”

 

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed. “The Ranari people are far from primitive,” he said, a slight coolness to his tone. “I have the utmost respect for their art and their culture. I do not, however, condone their acts of aggression toward the Imperial troops stationed on their world. Many of our soldiers were injured or killed as a result of their sabotage and violence. I was brought in to put an end to the conflict, to support the Imperial government being installed there. And I used every tool at my disposal to accomplish that goal, including studying their art to identify potential points of weakness.”

 

“Is that what you were doing at the museum?” I asked, my throat tight. “Studying my culture, trying to find a weakness? Is the Tapani sector the Empire’s next target? Are you going to conquer my world next?”

 

Thrawn’s face went very still. Then his hand twitched, and for a moment I thought he was going to reach out and touch me. He didn’t, though, which was good. I probably would have pushed him away if he had.

 

“No,” he said softly. “No, Tessa. I was simply studying your art because I found it interesting. That is all.”

 

“I want to believe you,” I said, tears suddenly welling up. It didn’t seem possible that mere minutes ago I was considering kissing him. Now all I wanted was to get away.

 

Thrawn moved closer to me, narrowing the space between us to mere centimeters. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, so instead I focused on the insignia plaque on his chest, rising and falling slightly with his breath. 

 

“I would never lie to you, Tessa,” he said. “To the best of my knowledge, the Empire has no intention of invading or conquering your world.”

 

“To the best of your knowledge,” I repeated. “So you can’t say for certain, one way or the other.”

 

“No,” he said. “I cannot.”

 

“So if your superiors ordered you to go to my planet right now and establish a military presence there, you would do it without question?”

 

Silence. I finally tore my eyes away from the insignia plaque and made myself look up at him. He was gazing down at me, face rigid, lips pressed tightly together.

 

“You just said you’d never lie to me,” I said. “Don’t start now.”

 

Thrawn lowered his eyes to the floor, the muscles in his throat contracting as he swallowed. “I follow the orders my Emperor gives me,” he said at last.

 

His words hit me like a punch in the gut. “I think I’d like to leave now,” I whispered, blinking fast to keep the tears from falling.

 

“Tessa.” Thrawn started to reach for my hand, but I drew it away.

 

“Please,” I said. “Please just let me go.”

 

A pause, and then Thrawn’s hand returned to his side. “Very well,” he said quietly. “I am sorry for upsetting you. This is not how I wanted this to go.”

 

“I guess we’re both disappointed,” I said, and walked away without another word, leaving him standing there in the middle of the floor, as still and silent as the statue of the Bothawui goddess.


	14. Transparency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So that thing you’ve all been waiting for? That thing you’ve read more than 90k words for? It finally happens. That’s pretty much all you need to know.
> 
> Oh, and Thrawn is a mess. What else is new?

Senator Reza Yarrin arrived on the  _ Chimaera _ at precisely 1405 the next day. Her ship, a sleek luxury yacht aptly named the  _ Amendment _ , eased into the number two slot in the main hangar, repulsorlifts hissing gently. 

 

As Vanto and I waited for her to disembark, I reviewed what I knew of the senator’s career. A native of the Core agricultural world Nubia, Yarrin came from a wealthy family with a long history of serving in politics. She’d been a junior senator for nearly six years, and her voting record was consistent with her party’s values of fiscal conservatism― limited spending on social programs, tax cuts for corporations and large businesses, and increased funding for law enforcement. Overall, she struck me as someone more concerned with control than with change, which made her a perfect candidate to replace the corrupt and power-hungry Governor Sarne. Whether she could bring the Kathol sector back under Imperial rule was another matter.

 

After a few moments the yacht’s docking ramp lowered to reveal a tall, thin woman in her early fifties.  _ Her skin is light brown, her black hair shot with grey. She walks towards me, looking every bit the regal politician in a red gown studded with crystal stones, her many bracelets and bangles jangling softly. _

 

“Admiral Thrawn,” the senator said, coming to a stop and bowing gracefully.  _ Her voice is deep and slightly husky, with the subtle lilt I have come to associate with Core World upper classes. The expression on her face is bland, almost detached, but her dark eyes are sharply observant as they survey my face.  _ “You’re not nearly as frightening as I was led to believe.”

 

I forced a smile. “Neither are you, Senator. Welcome to the  _ Chimaera _ . And thank you for altering your itinerary to accommodate our change in schedule.” Before leaving the Kuat system, I had requested that Yarrin meet us at Corellia rather than her home planet, in order to make up for lost time.

 

“Oh, it was no trouble,” Yarrin said, brushing her hand through the air as though to sweep aside the inconvenience. “My daughter is attending university on Corellia, so it gave me an excuse to visit her for the day.”

 

“I am glad to hear it,” I said. “Nevertheless, we appreciate your flexibility.”

 

“Not at all. And who is this?” she said, turning to Vanto, who was standing beside me.

 

“This is Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto, my personal aide and translator,” I said.

 

“Ma’am,” Vanto said, giving her a respectful nod. “Welcome aboard.”

 

_ The senator’s heart rate increases slightly, pupils dilating as she looks Vanto up and down.  _ “A lieutenant commander already,” she said. “That’s quite impressive for someone so young. You can’t be a day older than twenty-two.”

 

_ Vanto shifts his weight and clears his throat, both indicators of embarrassment. _ “I’m twenty-nine, ma’am,” he said

 

“Dear me,” the senator said, her gaze becoming even more intense. “I’d never have guessed. You just have such a young face, and such a lovely complexion. I’m sure you’ve broken a few hearts already.”

 

Vanto began to sputter, but before he could form proper words, Yarrin turned to me. “I should probably introduce my aide as well,” she said briskly. “Well, he’s not really an  _ aide _ , per se. More of a one-man security detail. He’s also my pilot. Nack!” she called, looking over her shoulder towards the yacht. “Stop lurking in the shadows and come out here.”

 

A humanoid figure emerged from the shadow of the ship, coming out into the brightly lit hangar with a shuffling gait. It was a Rodian, but unlike any I’d ever seen. His skin wasn’t green, like most of his species, but a dull red, with mottled bits of orange and yellow. A skin condition, perhaps, or a genetic mutation.

 

“Come say hello to the Admiral and his aide,” the senator said, beckoning him closer. The alien shuffled forward, looking at us with beady eyes. He was big for a Rodian, and heavily muscled. One-man security detail, indeed. This was a bodyguard, pure and simple. I wondered why the senator felt she needed one. Had she always had need of such protection? Or did she anticipate needing it once arriving in Kathol? Either way, it was a practical choice.

 

“This is Nack,” Yarrin said, patting the Rodian’s shoulder.  _ The gesture is familiar, casual, suggesting they have a well-established relationship.  _ “He doesn’t talk much, but he’s very good at keeping me out of harm’s way.”

 

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nack,” I said politely, inclining my head.

 

Yarrin laughed. “Oh, just Nack will be fine. He doesn’t stand on formalities much. Say hello, Nack.”

 

The Rodian stared at me, his expression difficult to read. I got the sense he was less than pleased to be here, although whether his displeasure was with me or the situation, it was hard to tell.

 

“Hello,” he grunted.

 

“There,” Yarrin said briskly. “That wasn’t so hard. Honestly, sometimes it’s like pulling teeth to get him to say more than two syllables.” She patted the alien on the shoulder again. “Be a dear and get the bags, would you? Just the two small cases. We can always come back later and get the rest.”

 

After Nack had retrieved the senator’s baggage and loaded it on a hovercart, the four of us set off across the hangar.

 

“So an aide to an Admiral,” Yarrin said, smiling at Vanto. “And a Lieutenant Commander, too. You must be very talented. What was your field of study at the academy?”

 

“Uh.” Vanto glanced at me. “I was originally on the supply track, but… I ended up going in a different direction.”

 

“Well, I’ve only just met you,” Yarrin said, “but I think it’s safe to say your talents would have been wasted in supply. Such commanding presence deserves a place on the bridge.”

 

_ Vanto’s facial heat is rapidly increasing, as is his heart rate.  _ “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, putting a bit more distance between them as we continued walking. I suppressed a smile.

 

“I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to tonight’s meal,” Yarrin said after a moment. “I had to eat that ghastly cafeteria food yesterday. I have no idea how Celia stands it.”

 

“What’s your daughter studying, ma’am?” Vanto asked, clearly relieved at the change of subject.

 

“Well, it changes from week to week.” Yarrin rolled her eyes. “At the moment I believe she’s earning a major in philosophy and a minor in binge drinking. Which reminds me. Nack, be a dear and give the Admiral his gift, would you?”

 

The Rodian reached into the satchel hanging at his side, withdrew a small bottle, and handed it to me with a grunt. It was square in shape, made of ornately cut glass, and I could see dark red liquid sloshing gently back and forth underneath the label.

 

“Corellian brandy,” Yarrin said. “Made at Flagstone Distillery, one of the finest on world. A small token of appreciation for your hospitality.”

 

“You are too kind,” I said, slipping the bottle into my tunic pocket. Such gifts, while not exactly ethical, were commonplace among those of high social standing in the Empire. I’d never liked the practice, but Vanto had impressed upon me its importance in maintaining positive diplomatic relations. “I look forward to sampling it later.”

 

“You may want to try it at dinner,” Yarrin said. “It pairs with seafood quite nicely.”

 

“I am sure it does,” I answered.

 

We reached the turbolift and Yarrin turned to me with a gracious smile. “Thank you so much for your time, Admiral,” she said. “You’re a busy man, so I understand if you need to get back to work.” She placed a hand on Vanto’s shoulder, making him twitch. “I’m sure the Lieutenant Commander can take it from here.”

 

Vanto opened his mouth, no doubt intending to protest, but I spoke over him. “Of course,” I said, bowing. “Commander, please escort the senator to her quarters and ensure she has everything she requires.”

 

My aide shot me a wounded look. “Yes, sir,” he muttered, pressing the button for the lift. The doors slid open and Nack stepped inside, carrying both bags effortlessly.

 

“Until dinner, then,” Yarrin said, bowing to me, and followed Vanto into the lift, hand still lingering on his shoulder.

 

Once the doors had closed, I permitted myself a smile. Vanto could handle himself in nearly any tactical situation, but I doubted very much if he was prepared to deal with this type of scenario. No doubt it would give him an opportunity to develop some new skills.

 

I pulled out my datapad and called up the ship’s personnel tracking system, a highly useful piece of technology that could pinpoint the location of any crew member within a few seconds. Tessa was currently in the ship’s laboratory with Dr. Bennett. Small chance of crossing paths with her, but I would take the long way back to my office just in case.

 

With the distraction of our new arrival now gone, the fog began to descend on my mind again. I’d drifted through the past two days, my brain sluggish, my senses dulled, and it was difficult to concentrate on even the simplest of tasks. I did my best to push my personal feelings aside, knowing that dwelling on them would only make my state of mind worse, but it was impossible.

 

Tessa’s presence was everywhere, no matter how much I might try to get away from it. The arrival of Dr. Bennett meant that she was constantly wandering around the ship, showing him the sights and introducing him to people. And if that wasn’t enough to attract attention, there was always Max. When he wasn’t with Dr. Shelton, the big dog was loping along beside her, which drew even the shyest crew members out of hiding. It had gotten to the point where hardly an hour would go by without someone mentioning Tessa’s name, and each time I heard it I felt as though someone was twisting my insides into knots.

 

I walked along the corridor, doing my best not to think about tonight. If just hearing her name was painful, how much would it hurt to see her? The banquet would probably last two hours or more. How could I ensure sitting across from her for that long? I wanted desperately to explain, to apologize for what I had done, but how could I? She had seen who I truly was, and I disgusted her. Better to leave well enough alone.

 

I entered my office and walked across to the turbolift, glancing at the pieces of the Ranari trunk still lying on the floor. Eventually I would let someone in to clean, but not now. I wanted the pieces to stay there for a good long while, to remind me of what I’d lost.

 

Once inside my quarters, I took the bottle of brandy out of my pocket and studied it. Token of appreciation, indeed. More like a display of wealth and privilege dressed up as courtesy. Flagstone Distillery was well known in the Core, and a bottle this size probably cost two hundred credits or more. Yarrin might as well have rattled her diamond bracelets in my face. I briefly considered dumping the contents down the drain, but it seemed a shame to waste such quality.

 

Instead, I fetched a glass from the galley and settled myself on the sofa. A shot or two should be enough to take the edge off, at least for tonight. I poured a liberal amount of the red liquid into the glass, swirled it around, and took a sip. I probably should have tested it first, I thought dully, as the alcohol burned my throat. Ah, well. If the senator had wanted to poison me, she wouldn’t have chosen such an obvious method. I’d already deduced that her scathing wit, flippant remarks, and flirtation with Vanto were all meant to paint a very specific picture— a self-absorbed, flighty woman incapable of focusing on anything other than her fragile ego and barely contained lust. It was a masterful act, one I had nearly believed for a few minutes. But then I saw the hardness behind her eyes, the calculating, deliberative look. She was far more intelligent and observant than she let on, and that, more than anything else, was probably why Palpatine had chosen her. Unlike Kentor Sarne, Yarrin would not be easily corrupted by the power and influence of Kathol’s governorship, for she had plenty of both already.

 

I reached for the remote that controlled the holographic window display and programmed in a series of numbers. After a moment, the screen changed to an painting of an open-air cafe on a street paved with red cobble. I didn’t know for certain if the artist was depicting Anaxes, but it was visually very similar. I stared at the image for a long time, reliving that afternoon with Tessa over and over again, until at last the brandy had dulled the pain in my chest to a more manageable ache. Then I stood up, a bit unsteadily, and went into my bedroom to change for the evening.

 

***

 

I entered the dining room at 1800, the collar of my dress uniform annoyingly itchy. Vanto met me halfway across the room.

 

“I hope you’re satisfied,” he grumbled, jerking his head at the senator, who was in the far corner chatting with Lieutenant Grey. “She kept me talking for half an hour.”

 

“What did you discuss?” I inquired.

 

“Me, mostly. My career, my plans.” He smiled tightly. “I think she was disappointed with my answers.”

 

I felt a familiar twinge of guilt. Vanto’s career had always been overshadowed by my own, and even now, after his long-overdue promotion, people still questioned why he chose to stay under my command. I glanced away, scanning the room for a sign of Tessa.

 

“Are you all right, sir?” Vanto asked after a moment.  _ He is studying my face, brow wrinkled with sudden concern.  _

 

“I am fine,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Nothing, I just…” He hesitated. “You’re looking a little flushed, that’s all.”

 

“Admiral Thrawn!” a voice cried from across the room. 

 

Vanto and I both turned to see a man walking towards us— a short man with a slight potbelly, reddish skin, and purple hair and beard that were beginning to go grey. 

 

“Dr. Bennett,” I said, relieved at the interruption. “I am glad you could join us this evening.”

 

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Bennett said, seizing my hand and shaking it several times. “So wonderful to meet you at last.”

 

Because I’d been so busy avoiding Tessa, I had asked Vanto to welcome Bennett aboard in my place, which in retrospect was probably not a good idea. From my observations, it was clear that Tessa cared a great deal for her colleague, and she was probably greatly offended that I hadn’t bothered to meet him until now.

 

Bennett didn’t seem perturbed, however. He finally released my hand and turned to my aide, positively beaming. “And Commander Vanto! A pleasure to see you again.”

 

“Likewise, doctor,” Vanto replied, grinning. “I assume your colleagues are arriving soon?”

 

“Shell’s on his way,” Bennett said, “but I’m afraid Tessa’s not feeling well.”

 

My focus suddenly sharpened. “What seems to be the matter?” I asked, trying not to sound overly concerned.

 

“Not quite sure,” Bennett answered. “Stomach pain, nausea. She wasn’t very specific.”

 

“Has she been to sick bay?”

 

“I told her she ought to go, just to be safe,” Bennett said. “But she insisted everything was fine. That woman’s more stubborn than a Roogak.”

 

“If she is ill, it is imperative that she visit sick bay,” I said. “Perhaps I should send Dr. Kahn to check on her.”

 

“I’m sure she’s fine, sir,” Vanto said, and I could tell he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Give it until morning, at least.”

 

***

 

I did not give it until morning. An idea began to take shape in my mind during dinner, an idea that I put into action as soon the banquet had finished. After saying goodnight to my guests, I went into the galley. 

 

Neesha was loading pots and pans into the dishwasher, humming to herself. “Admiral,” she shouted when she saw me. “I hope the evening was a success! The senator was pleased with everything?”

 

“She was, indeed,” I answered. “She had nothing but compliments for the chef.”

 

“That’s what I like to hear,” she cried. “So what can I do for you now?”

 

“It has just come to my attention that Dr. Alyn has taken ill,” I said. “Were you aware of that?”

 

“I wasn’t,” Neesha exclaimed. “Oh, the poor thing! I wondered why I didn’t see her in the dining room. Shall I put together a few things for her?”

 

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

 

“Not at all! What seems to be the trouble?”

 

“Dr. Bennett said she is experiencing stomach pain and nausea.”

 

“Stomach pain and nausea,” Neesha mused, looking around the kitchen thoughtfully. “I have a few things that might help.” She glanced up at me with a slightly crooked grin. “I assume you want to deliver them personally, Admiral?”

 

“That is correct,” I said, keeping my face impassive.

 

“Excellent,” Neesha said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s see what I can find.”

  
  


***

 

Tessa and her colleagues had been assigned to quarters on B deck, where most of the  _ Chimaera _ ’s junior science officers and techs resided. Lieutenant Enzler and I had agreed that the scientists would probably feel most comfortable living among crew members with similar fields of expertise. So far I’d heard no complaints, although I couldn’t imagine it was a very pleasant place to stay. Crew quarters on Imperial ships tended to be noisy, smelly, and cramped, and even the private cabins had very few amenities. Tessa was no doubt used to better accommodations.

 

Commanders hardly ever came down to crew quarters except to perform inspections, so the sight of me walking down the corridor set off a flurry of surprised glances, hasty salutes, and curious whispers. I ignored them and continued on my way, the box Neesha had packed for me tucked carefully under one arm.

 

The door to CC-82 was closed but not locked. I took a deep breath and pressed the call button with my free hand.

 

I heard a muffled thump, then the sound of someone cursing. After a few moments, the door slid open to reveal Tessa, her hair a tangled red mane, dressed in nothing but a tank top and cotton shorts. She stared up at me, eyes wide.

 

“Oh, God,” was all she said, and then abruptly closed the door in my face.

 

I stood there for a few seconds, my heart sinking. Obviously she didn’t want to see me. Perhaps I should simply leave the box outside her door and go away?

 

Then Tessa spoke from behind the closed door. 

 

“What are you doing here?”  _ Her tone holds both shock and anxiety, but not hostility. An encouraging sign. _

 

“Dr. Bennett and Dr. Shelton informed me of your illness,” I answered, leaning closer so she could hear me more clearly. “Neesha assembled a few items that may help ease your symptoms.”

 

“And she asked  _ you  _ to deliver them?”

 

“No,” I said. “I volunteered.”

 

A longer pause this time. Then Tessa let out a huff.

 

“Fine,” she said. “Give me a minute to clean up.”

 

“Of course,” I said. “Take all the time you need.”

 

It was considerably more than a minute before she reopened the door, but it was worth the wait. She’d changed into a dress— a light blue summer dress that was slightly too small for her. The fabric stretched tightly across her chest and shoulders, outlining her body in ways that made my mouth go slightly dry. I hadn’t realized how many curves had been hiding underneath her rumpled work clothes.

 

“Sorry about earlier,” Tessa said. “It was a bit of a shock to see you standing there.” 

 

I swallowed. “Quite understandable.”

 

_ Tessa shifts her weight from one foot to the other, hands twitching nervously at her sides.  _ “So what did Neesha send?” she asked after a moment, eyeing the box.

 

“If you will permit me to enter, I will show you,” I answered.

 

_ Her shoulders tighten and tension forms around her mouth. She steals a glance over her shoulder, probably evaluating the room’s state of cleanliness. Then she shrugs. _

 

“It’s a complete mess,” she said, stepping back to let me through. “But you can’t really blame me. I wasn’t expecting company.”

 

“I apologize for coming here unannounced,” I said, crouching slightly as I went through the doorway. “I was afraid you would refuse to see me otherwise.”

 

“That’s probably true.” Tessa crossed the floor. “Let me clear a space for that.” She started moving things off the small desk next to her bunk.

 

I moved carefully across the small room, taking a mental inventory of everything I saw, filing it away for future reference. Clothes strewn over the bed and draped over the desk chair. Datapads stacked haphazardly on the computer console. Storage drawers half-open and stuffed with more clothes. Two pairs of heavy boots on the floor. Everything was covered with grey fur, especially the bedspread. Max must have visited recently.

 

“Okay.” Tessa stepped back from the desk. “You can set it down there.”  _ She folds her arms across her chest, a defensive posture. _

 

I set the box down on the metal surface. “As usual, Neesha overcompensated and sent a great many items, perhaps more than necessary,” I said, lifting the lid of the box.

 

“A very grandmotherly thing to do.”

 

“Indeed.” I began taking the containers out one by one, naming each one. “Vegetable soup, whole grain crackers, and plain rice, all light and easy to digest. Fruit juice to boost the immune system. Hot tea with powdered josina root, which may help to settle your stomach. And some dark chocolate.”

 

“Chocolate?” she asked. “Why chocolate?”

 

“During your first night aboard, you seemed to greatly enjoy the chocolate soufflé,” I said. “I thought perhaps you might enjoy this as well.”

 

An odd expression appeared on Tessa’s face— she looked simultaneously irritated, pleased, and amused.

 

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

 

“No. I just…” She shook her head. “Why are you doing this?”

 

“Because you are ill.”

 

“If that was the only reason, you could have asked Neesha to deliver it,” she said shrewdly. “Or a droid. What’s the real reason? Are you hoping to get back on my good side by bringing me food?”

 

“Perhaps,” I said, sitting down in the desk chair and facing her. “Is it working?”

 

“No.” She sat down on the edge of her bunk, arms still folded. “I’m still very upset with you. And unless you start being completely honest with me, I’m going to keep being upset with you for the rest of this trip.”

 

“I  _ have  _ been honest with you,” I said, irritation starting to take hold. “I have answered all of your questions.”

 

“No, you haven’t.” Tessa leaned forward, her gaze intense. “Not the most important one.”

 

I said nothing, merely looked at her. I knew she would ask eventually— she was far too intelligent and confrontational to let a thing like this slip by— but I still hadn’t decided how to answer.

 

“Clearly you don’t agree with many of the Empire’s tactics,” Tessa said. “And based on what I saw at the War College, you’re certainly not popular with the higher-ups. Why are you working for them, Thrawn? What’s in it for you?”

 

I was silent another few seconds, deliberating. Was it wise to share my most precious secret with someone I hardly knew? Probably not. But I had to say something. Tessa’s mouth was set, her gaze even, her breathing steady. She was resolved. If I didn’t offer her at least a kernel of truth, some small demonstration of honesty, this would be over. I would spend the rest of this journey alone, and that was something I could not bear to contemplate.

 

“You care deeply about your homeworld,” I said at last. “And your people. Is that a fair assessment?”

 

Tessa blinked, the familiar crease appearing between her eyebrows. Then slowly, she nodded.

 

“Yes,” she said. “Very much.”

 

“How far would you go to protect them? How much of your own freedom and happiness would you be willing to sacrifice?”

 

“I…” she began, then stopped, obviously at a loss for words.

 

“Many years ago, I made a choice,” I said. “I chose to do whatever it takes to ensure my people’s survival. Even if it meant serving the Empire, even if it meant leaving my old life behind for good. Does that answer your question?”

 

_ The resolution in Tessa’s eyes has softened, replaced with a mix of surprise and sadness.  _ “You gave up your home to save your people?” she asked.

 

“There is a chance I can save them,” I said. “Not a guarantee. My success depends, in part, upon how long I continue to succeed here.”

 

_ Her hand twitches, then stills in her lap. She wants to reach out and touch me, but is perhaps unsure if such a gesture is welcome. _

 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she asked, her voice soft. “I would have listened. Or done my best, anyway.”

 

“I was not certain I could trust you,” I answered. “This information is not in my military record, and it is not something I wish to be made publicly known.”

 

“What makes you so certain you can trust me now?”

 

“Because I have seen how deeply you care about your world,” I said. “Only someone who takes great pride in where they come from could understand why I would make such a choice.”

 

Tessa’s chin trembled, and for a moment I thought she was about to cry. “That’s a kind thing to say,” she said. “But you’ve got it wrong. I care about my world, but I didn’t leave it for the reasons you did. I left because I wanted to escape, because I wanted to hurt the people who hurt me. That’s not noble. That’s not selfless. That’s the exact  _ opposite  _ of selfless. It’s shallow and petty and mean-spirited and I honestly don’t know why you would want to be with someone like me, I’m bossy and loud and I say things without thinking and—”

 

In that moment, a sudden madness took hold of me. Without thinking, without deliberating, without considering a single consequence or calculating a single risk, I got up from my chair, leaned across the space between us, and kissed her.


End file.
